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Poem by Katharine Lee Bates


If You Could Come


My love, my love, if you could come once more
From your high place,
I would not question you for heavenly lore,
But, silent, take the comfort of your face.

I would not ask you if those golden spheres
In love rejoice,
If only our stained star hath sin and tears,
But fill my famished hearing with your voice.

One touch of you were worth a thousand creeds.
My wound is numb
Through toil-pressed, but all night long it bleeds
In aching dreams, and still you cannot come.



Katharine Lee Bates


Katharine Lee Bates's other poems:
  1. The Sunset, Woven of Soft Lights
  2. Tamlane
  3. Eavesdropping
  4. Children of the War
  5. Around the Sun


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