This poem was first published in Selected Poems (1925).
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I cannot read, if she be near,
For O, mine eyes will lose the place,
And seek her out, to study there
The flower-like beauty of her face.

I cannot think, if she be near,
For O, the thought within me dies,
And all my wisdom is, to share
The deep-veiled mysteries of her eyes.

I cannot sleep, if she be near,
For O, the honey-slumber slips
Away like water, when I hear
The matchless music of her lips.

With her full beauty thus possest,
As flowers beneath the mid-day sun,
My drooping head upon my breast,
I swoon with sweetness till she's gone.


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