Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 3. 9. Love's Jealousy

Of other men I know no jealousy,
     ⁠Nor of the maid who holds thee close, O, close!
     ⁠But of the June-red, summer-scented rose,
     ⁠And of the barred and golden sunset sky
That wins the soul of thee through thy deep eye;
⁠     And of the breeze by thee beloved, that goes
⁠     O'er thy dear hair and brow; the song that flows
     ⁠Into thy heart of hearts, where it may die.
I would I were one moment that sweet show
     ⁠Of flower; or breeze beloved that toucheth all;
⁠     Or sky that through the summer eve doth burn.
I would I were the song thou lovest so,
⁠     At sound of me to have thine eyelids fall;
     ⁠But I would then to something human turn.