Love's Companion
By George Sterling
Thy memories are seraphs that abide:
This has thy smile to welcome me, and this
The immeasurable rapture of thy kiss;
For all the radiant band seems but allied
To hold my heart in Paradise and guide
My feet on all its ways of final bliss;
And well I know at last I shall not miss
The throning path that leads me to thy side.
And then—and then! Oh! pure, impassioned lips!
O blossoms that my very heart hath kist!
How shall I touch, nor crush, your tenderness,
From which all fragrance into music slips,
Till earth and sky seem only to exist
To shrine you, making Heaven itself the less?
Carmel