To Be In Love...

To be in love

Is to touch with a lighter hand.

In yourself you stretch, you are well.

You look at things

Through his eyes.

A cardinal is red.

The sky is blue.

Suddenly you know he knows too.

He is not there but

You know you are tasting together

The winter, or light spring weather.

His hand to take your hand is overmuch.

Too much to bear.

You cannot look into his eyes

Because your pulse must not say

What must not be said?

When he

Shuts a door-

Is not there—

Your arms are water.

And you are free

With a ghastly freedom.

You are the beautiful half

Of a golden hurt.

You remember and covet his mouth

To touch, to whisper on.

Oh when to declare

Is certain Death!

Oh when to apprize

Is to mesmerize,

To see fall down, the Column of Gold,

Into the commonest ash.