Thou lovely and beloved, thou my love; 
   Whose kiss seems still the first; whose summoning eyes, 
   Even now, as for our love-world's new sunrise, 
Shed very dawn; whose voice, attuned above 
All modulation of the deep-bowered dove, 
   Is like a hand laid softly on the soul; 
   Whose hand is like a sweet voice to control 
Those worn tired brows it hath the keeping of:--- 

What word can answer to thy word,---what gaze 
   To thine, which now absorbs within its sphere 
   My worshipping face, till I am mirrored there 
Light-circled in a heaven of deep-drawn rays? 
What clasp, what kiss mine inmost heart can prove, 
O lovely and beloved, O my love?