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I hold your hand in mine, my darling, darling;
I look within your eyes;
I ask you idle questions, only caring
To hear your low replies.


And all the while the glimmer of a wonder,
A moonlight rack of cloud,
Flits through my silent heaven of joy, while under
Its stars my soul is bowed.


I think how oft the future will require it--
"Ah, how then did it seem?"
Tomorrow and tomorrow will desire it
Vainly as any dream.


What is it more? In dreams our eyes are holden,
Not knowing near from far;
We make with outspread arms, a shadow folding:
And such life's visions are.


It is but touch and sight a little plainer;
A voice that, telling, hides;
I doubt--O heart, art thou so much a gainer?
For something still divides.


O fire of God! O living winged creature
That in this clay does rise!
How canst thou warm to thy diviner nature
These lips, and hands, and eyes?


Too eager guest, that hastest to their meeting
Hoping desire to fill,
Thou standest half-abashed, in tenderest greeting
Yet finding welcome chill.


With stinted bread the lifelong hunger staying,
With fasting visions blest;
With longing that makes life perpetual praying--
A stranger here confest.


If yet, O dearest heart, the world grows dearer,
Because' tis sweet to stand
(While that which never has enough cries, Nearer,)
One moment hand to hand.


What will it be when every barrier breaking
Lets heart to heart come through?
Will heaven leave one corner for an aching
When the long dream comes true?