Accuse me not, beseec I wear

    too calm and sad a face in front of thine;

    For  shine

    it on our brow and hair.

    On me t ing care,

    As on a bee s in a crystalline;

    Since sorrow  me safe in loves divine,

    And to spread er air

    ere most impossible failure, if I strove

    to fail so. But I look on thee--

    Behe end of love,

    hearing oblivion beyond memory;

    As one ws and gazes from above,

    Over to tter sea.

    And yet, because t so,

    Because t more noble and like a king,

    t prevail against my fears and fling

    till my  shall grow

    too close against t o know

    shook when alone. hy, conquering

    May prove as lordly and complete a thing

    In lifting upward, as in crushing low !

    And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword

    to one ws h,

    Even so, Beloved, I at last record,

    rife. If te me forth,

    I rise above abasement at the word.

    Make to enlarge my h.

    My poet, t touces

    God set between er and Before,

    And strike up and strike off the general roar

    Of t floats

    In a serene air purely. Antidotes

    Of medicated music, answering for

    Mankinds forlornest uses, t pour

    From to tes

    to suco  on thine.

    ,  t use ?

    A o sing by gladly ? or a fine

    Sad memory, o interfuse ?

    A so sing--of palm or pine ?

    A grave, on  from singing ? Choose.

    I never gave a lock of hair away

    to a man, Dearest, except to thee,

    fully,

    I ring out to th and say

    take it. My day of yout yesterday;

    My o my foots glee,

    Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle-tree,

    As girls do, any more: it only may

    Now swo pale cears,

    taug hangs aside

    trick. I t the funeral-shears

    ould take t, but Love is justified,--

    take it those years,

    t here when she died.

    to s merchandise;

    I barter curl for curl upon t mart,

    And from my poets foreo my

    Receive tweighs argosies,--

    As purply black, as erst to Pindars eyes

    tresses gloomed at

    te Muse-broerpart, . . .

    the bay-crowns shade, Beloved, I surmise,

    Still lingers on t is so black !

    t of smooth,

    I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,

    And lay t wh;

    , as on to lack

    No natural  till mine groh.

    And  to speech

    thee, finding words enough,

    And orc, whe winds are rough,

    Beto cast light on each ?--

    I drop it at t. I cannot teach

    My o  so far off

    From myself--me--t I shee proof

    In words, of love  of reach.

    Nay, let the silence of my womanhood

    Commend my o thy belief,--

    Seeing t I stand unwon, however wooed,

    And rend t of my life, in brief,

    By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,

    Lest one touc convey its grief