Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot
shine
With the same sunlight on our brow and
hair.
On me thou lookest with no doubting care,
As on a bee in a crystalline;
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's
divine
And to spread wing and fly in the outer
air
Were most impossible failure, if I strove
To fail so.
But I look on thee--on thee--
Beholding, besides love, the end of love,
Hearing oblivion beyond memory;
As one who sits and gazes from above,
Over the rivers to the bitter sea.
< British and American Poets
of the 19th Century >