Page:Myrtle and Myrrh.djvu/61



Hold back thy lips, I pray; Just let me rest this way; My soul is in the spray Arising from the silvery cascades murmuring farewell to the day.

Thy kisses 'neath a sigh Of mine extinguished lie; O friend, I choke, I die: Pray, let me raise my head to see the parting light, the vivid sky,

If every kiss of thine Is safely kept with mine For one for whom I pine, Wouldst thou, contented with the taking, call my love a love divine?

Ay, and for every tear Thou sheddest when I'm near I shed a score to hear Her echo my desire's sigh, albeit she is not thy peer.

If I were but a reed, Or but a fern or weed, This would not be my creed; But prick thou these cold slips and all the roots of me in heaven will bleed.

Thy burning breath is creeping All over me; 't is leaping Into my bones and sweeping Their ashes out, up and into mine eyes, alas! the awful reaping.