Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/77

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With fingers cool as aspen leaves. Sweet love! I was as vague as solitary dove, Nor knew that nests were built. Now a soft kiss— Ay, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss, An immortality of passion's thine Ere long I will exalt thee to the shine Of heaven ambrosial; and we will shade Ourselves whole summers by a river glade; And I will tell the stories of the sky, And breathe thee whispers of its minstrelsy My happy love will overwing all bounds! O let me melt into thee! let the sounds Of our close voices marry at their birth; Let us entwine hoveringly! O dearth Of human words! roughness of mortal speech! Lispings empyrean will I sometimes teach Thine honey'd tongue—lute-breathings which I gasp To have thee understand, now while I clasp Thee thus, and weep for fondness—I am pain'd, Endymion: woe! woe! is grief contain'd In the very deeps of pleasure, my sole life?"— Hereat, with many sobs, her gentle strife Melted into a langor. He return'd Entranced vows and tears.
 * Ye who have yearn'd

With too much passion, will here stay and pity, For the mere sake of truth; as 'tis a ditty Not of these days, but long ago 'twas told By a cavern wind unto a forest old; And then the forest told it in a dream To a sleeping lake, whose cool and level gleam