I am surprised what you and I did before we loved!
Were we not suckled and buckled to our mother's bosom?
Were we not moved about and pampered like buds of the last lily on a burnt field?
Did we not walked the streets with wanton cold on our noses and bare were our feet?
Did we not cry from the pain of the prick of the road sharp thorn?
We childishly galloped on our limbs to sleep
T'was all gone at bay and with seven sleepers' den
And t'was all passing pleasure of kiddish world
With all these childhood pleasure be
More of the pleasure of childhood fix
Which I desire as a laden fix
With very many questions in my head
And all the pleasure I desire and seek
Were never but a dream of thee
Now this slow-coming-morrow to our wedding harkened
The doubling yawning and double sigh of sleep
Which tell not the other of our yesterdays
For love, if it were true
Would the other pleasure control
And for your amusement would stop
Your truly heart is mine and mine is in yours
And true love is in the face manifest
But extend its hand to the yonder nib
What place then can hold the tip of my tongue?
Without licking the very truth of a drop of love?
Tell me more love, if you can
Of the very taste of a bitter tongue
From the missing zinnia and absent friend