Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/178

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AURORA LEIGH.
She came to see me nine times, rather ten—So beautiful, she hurts me like the dayLet suddenly on sick eyes.'Most kind of all,Your cousin!—ah, most like you! Ere you cameShe kissed me mouth to mouth: I felt her soulDip through her serious lips in holy fire.God help me, but it made me arrogant;I almost told her that you would not loseBy taking me to wife: though, ever since,I've pondered much a certain thing she asked . .'He love's you, Marian?' . . in a sort of mildDerisive sadness . . as a mother asksHer babe, 'You'll touch that star, you think?''Farewell!I know I never touched it.'This is worst:Babes grow, and lose the hope of things above;A silver threepence sets them leaping high—But no more stars! mark that.'I've writ all night,And told you nothing. God, if I could die,And let this letter break off innocentJust here! But no—for your sake . .'Here's the last:I never could be happy as your wife,I never could be harmless as your friend,I never will look more into your face,Till God says, 'Look!' I charge you, seek me not,Nor vex yourself with lamentable thoughts
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