Absence (StC)

By George Sterling

Thy beauty is an altar where I kneel,
    Thy soul the Heaven of my constant pray'r.
    Darling, I find thine image everywhere,
Thy lure in sunset and the moons that wheel
O'er evening valleys where their beams reveal
    Too much of loveliness for day to share.
    My soul is lost in thine. I wait aware
Of hopes too dear for Sorrow to conceal.

Alas the gulfs that hold thy breast from mine!
    Alas my heart, too high for lesser pain!
        I love thee, as they love who loving die!
I crave from Passion her ecstatic wine,
    From Love, the gardens that the gods attain,
        From Rapture, all her kisses ere she sigh.

Written in San Francisco.