Isaac Rosenberg

Hearts First Word. I.

To sweeten a swift minute so
With such rare fragrance of sweet speech,
And make the after hours go
In a blank yearning each on each ;
To drain the springs till they be dry,
And then in anguish thirst for drink ;
So but to glimpse her robe thirst I,
And my soul hungers and I sink.
 
There is no word that we have said
Whereby the lips and heart arc fire;
No look the linked glances read
That held the springs of deep desire.
And yet the sounds her glad lips gave
Are on my soul vibrating still ;
Her eyes that swept me as a wave
Shine my soul’s worship to fulfil.
 
Her hair, her eyes, her throat and chin–
Sweet hair, sweet eyes, sweet throat, so sweet,
So fair because the ways of sin
Have never known her perfect feet–
By what far ways and marvellous
May I such lovely heaven reach?
What dread, dark seas and perilous
Lie 'twist love’s silence and love’s speech?
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