Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/179



, oft methinks, the while with Thee
 * I breathe, as from the heart, thy dear
 * And dedicated name, I hear

A promise and a mystery,
 * A pledge of more than passing life,
 * Yea, in that very name of Wife!

A pulse of love, that ne'er can sleep!
 * A feeling that upbraids the heart
 * With happiness beyond desert,

That gladness half requests to weep!
 * Nor bless I not the keener sense
 * And unalarming turbulence

Of transient joys, that no sting
 * From jealous fears, or coy denying;
 * But born beneath Love's brooding wing,

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