So beautiful, she hurts me like the day
Let suddenly on sick eyes.
⁠'Most kind of all,
Your cousin!—ah, most like you! Ere you came
She kissed me mouth to mouth: I felt her soul
Dip through her serious lips in holy fire.
God help me, but it made me arrogant;
I almost told her that you would not lose
By taking me to wife: though, ever since,
I've pondered much a certain thing she asked . .
'He love's you, Marian?' . . in a sort of mild
Derisive sadness . . as a mother asks
Her babe, 'You'll touch that star, you think?'
⁠'Farewell!
I know I never touched it.
⁠'This is worst:
Babes grow, and lose the hope of things above;
A silver threepence sets them leaping high—
But no more stars! mark that.
⁠'I've writ all night,
And told you nothing. God, if I could die,
And let this letter break off innocent
Just here! But no—for your sake . .
⁠'Here's the last:
I never could be happy as your wife,
I never could be harmless as your friend,
I never will look more into your face,
Till God says, 'Look!' I charge you, seek me not,
Nor vex yourself with lamentable thoughts