Ah! night!
To feel the stab of beauty at the heart!
To drink, with lifted throat,
The silent throb and music of the stars,
The first kiss of the spring on spell-bound trees,
To stretch out arms to hold and soothe the world,
--A love too vast in aught to be contained,
Helpless and great: a poets youthfulness,...
Alone, might all this emptiness be you!
_May first 1915_