To Vera (5)

By George Sterling

My mood to-day is one with sky and land,
    Of which thou seemest center and concern—
    The heart of beauty, whatso way I turn,
A star above me, wheresoe'er I stand.
Thy soul is like a fire my breath hath fanned
    Within a lucent, alabaster urn—
    A radiance that lights but cannot burn,
A moon of foam upon a silver strand.

I dream of thee as one whose limbs would lie
    On shattered roses or unresting seas —
Mad for all loveliness of earth and sky,
        A wayward wind, a thing of snows and flame,
    Drawn to this world by love's idolatries
        And to the skies by stars we cannot name.

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