LO, I, that once was Fear, that hears His own forgotten breath, and fears The breath of something else is heard -- Am now bold Love, to dare the word; No timid mouse am I, before He'll cross a moonbeam on the floor. So sit thou close, and I will pour Into that rosy shell, thy ear, My deep-sea passion; let me swear There's nothing in the world so fair As thy sweet face that does, and will, Retain its baby roundness still: With those two suns, thine eyes, that keep Their light from clouds till Night brings sleep. Forget my features, only see The soul in them that burns for thee; And never let it cross thy mind That I am ugly for my kind. Although the world may well declare, "One is an angel sweet and fair, But what it is that sits so close Must rest with God -- He only knows." |