Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/65



I am torn and tortured by love’s all consuming claims, Bum me and destroy me with your eye’s bright flames. Offer me as a hostage to your deeply heaving sighs, Pierce my heart, if need be, with your love’s sweet ties.

Your breath, a fragrant zephyr that in the springtime blows, Your breath is sweetly scented, your breath exhaustion knows. And my love that seeks to still your grief and lessen mine Bubbles over the goblet like a pearly foaming wine.