By George Sterling

What mysteries can perfect love make plain!
    Lo! of two hearts' intrepid loneliness
    Love makes one Eden! Ere the midnight bless
My limbs with slumber, let thy face again
Flash on my soul its beatific pain.
    As bent above this golden, slender tress
    I tremble with thy beauty's dear excess,
And hunger for departed hours in vain.

Craig! it was part of Thee! My Love, it shone,
    Living and tremulous, on Thy dear head!
That head whose loveliness in hours unknown
        And vales untrod shall gleam upon my breast.
    Where lips may teach a thousand things unsaid,
        And blinding raptures lead us unto rest.

Glen Ellen.

Bibliography Entry