Ada Cambridge (Cross)

Seeking

Bright eyes, sweet lips, with sudden fevers fill
My strong blood, running wildly, as it must;
But lips and eyes too soon beget distrust.
A soft touch sends a momentary thrill
Through sense unsubservient to the will;
But warm caresses leave a dim disgust;
Like Dead- Sea apples, kisses turn to dust.
I kiss; I feast; but I am hungry still.

O, where is She — that straight and upright soul —
True friend, true mate, true woman — where is She?
True heart — as true as needle to the pole —
True to the truth, not only true to me —
Worth all I have to give — the best — the whole.
When shall these eyes Her unknown beauty see?