I love you, Sweetheart! better far than all;
And still will love, with love that makes or mars,
When round my head eternal curtains fall,
And sleep shall close the eyelids of the stars:
Though all the houris of celestial bars
Should lure me on with eyes of liquid light,
Joined to the wondrous music of guitars,
Without _you_ there, my blood were cold and white!
Beyond that phase of something some call death
I want to love you always, just as now—
To feel my cheek fanned by your clover breath,
And feel your hand press sometimes on my brow:
I would not turn one instant from the plough,
But follow on from starry fence to fence,
And question not the whither, whence, or how,
With _you_ as earnest of God’s providence!
And when at last my evening glooms and greys,
And when, at last, my last sun westward dips,
And I go out upon dim, unknown ways
Where men are borne on heavenly spirit-ships,
I’ll watch and wait their oft-returning trips,
Hoping for you to step upon the quay,
That I may clasp you heart to heart with me,
And kiss you ... _thus_ ... upon your rose-red lips!