Love's Sacrament

By George Sterling

How high the Dreams that in thy spirit wake!
    I cannot deem thee made alone for bliss,
    Tho' better instant death than that I miss
The raptures in thy keeping, and forsake
    Such joys immeasurable as could break
A god's deep heart with ecstasy like this.
Thy maiden arms, thy ravishing, slow kiss—
    Ah! dearest! dearest! proffer that I take!

Yet must I take upon my bended knee,
    Lest the twain seraphs in our bosoms weep
        And human touch not lips with the divine.
How shall I know of Heaven apart from thee?—
    Thou for whom nights are wide and oceans deep!
        Thou for whose soul Infinity is shrine!

Carmel.

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