"Contributor to Magazines." (Sharp)
Dear love, I sometimes think how it would be
If thou shouldst love me, if, on such a day,
O day of wonder! thou shouldst come and say
I love thee, or but let me guess thy plea--
If once thine eyes should brighten suddenly,
If once thy step should hasten or delay
Because of me, if once thy hand should stay
A needless instant in my own! Ah, me!
From such imaginings I wake and start,
And dull and worthless life's endeavours seem
Before the tender beauty of my dream--
And then I whisper my impatient heart,
"Be still, be comforted, O heart of mine,
Thou art not all bereft, the dream is thine."
(Text from American Sonnets)