She, to Him IV
This love puts all humanity from me;I can but maledict her, pray her dead,For giving love and getting love of thee—Feeding a heart that else mine own had fed!
How much I love I know not, life not known,Save as some unit I would add love by;But this I know, my being is but thine own—Fused from its separateness by ecstasy.
And thus I grasp thy amplitudes, of herUngrasped, though helped by nigh-regarding eyes;Canst thou then hate me as an envierWho see unrecked what I so dearly prize?Believe me, Lost One, Love is lovelierThe more it shapes its moan in selfish-wise.
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