Nay, nay! the longings tender, The fear, the marvel, and the mystery, The shy, delicious dread, the unreserved surrender, Give, if thou canst, to me! For I would be, In this expressive languor, While night conceals, the wooed and not the wooer; Shaken with supplication, keen as anger; Pursued, and thou pursuer! Plunder my bosom of its hoarded fire, And so assail me, That coy denial fail me, Slain by the mirrored shape of my desire! Though life seem overladen With conquered bliss, it only craves the more: Teach me the other half of passion's lore -- Be thou the man, and I the maiden! Ah! come, While earth is waiting, heaven is dumb, And blossom-sighs So penetrate the indolent air, The very stars grow fragrant in the skies! Arise, And thine approach shall make me fair, Thy borrowed pleading all too soon subdue me, Till both forget the part And she who failed to woo me, So caught, is held to my impatient heart! |