There are a thousand things, my very dear, My heart cries out for me to say to you; And yet our love is all so strange and new, I scarce can speak at all when you are near. So very thoroughly have all things here Been metamorphosed since the night I knew That you were mine and all my dreams were true, I am not sure that I am I, my dear. And so, Beloved, if I leave unsaid The things that you had hoped to hear from me, -- If I but press your fingers close instead Or lay my cheek against your dear dark head, -- Remember this one thing: You are to me My life itself and my Eternity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF SLAVERY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME by GEORGE GORDON BYRON GRACE FOR CHILDREN by ROBERT HERRICK MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER DEATH by THOMAS HOOD A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM by EDGAR ALLAN POE PICTURE-SHOW by SIEGFRIED SASSOON |