O distance! Futile enemy thou art.
A seed hidden deep in fruit unapproved first warranted thine unwelcome intercession
Betwixt fancy, warm proximity, and all delights of presence.
Yet hollow is the time of solitude’s soft deception;
In separation is expanded ground more fertile for alchemy of fondness.
Thoughts of my love entreasure my mind and stow for the morrow great riches to find
Visions of my beloved appease my wonder and almost fill mine aching arms with her thrill.
So is it here in mind that I sit and pause in my weakness with dreams warmly lit.
Even now my word can press on ears unclouded; Oh, ‘tis not far!
Emblazoned upon time— thy face, how it shines!
Thy light is my flame in piercing shamed night
Leading ever on to where dost thou stay at end of darkened path deftly leading onward.
By tattered cry thy name’s repetition hath wispily conquered this common foe of miles
In muffles o’er the deep, and reaching even to thee in thy lovely station to gently caress what I cannot.
And when battle is done, victor snugly crowned, with weighted brow shall I say
Feelings that abide, in my beginnings their origin had; by tongue of angel my first decree will send—
How in holiness I love every part that thou art,
O Kristen
Of my heart.
