Page:Twilight Hours (1868).djvu/211



IKE a drop of water is my heart Laid upon her soft and rosy palm, Turned whichever way her hand doth turn, Trembling in an ecstasy of calm. Like a broken rose-leaf is my heart, Held within her close and burning clasp, Breathing only dying sweetness out, Withering beneath the fatal grasp. Like a vapoury cloudlet is my heart Growing into beauty near the sun, Gaining rainbow hues in her embrace, Melting into tears when it is done.