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 her Ungrasped, though helped by nigh-regarding eyes;Canst thou then hate me as an envier Who see unrecked what I so dearly prize?
Believe me, Lost One, Love is lovelier The more it shapes its moan in selfish-wise.
1866.
