Why do I love thee? I couldn’t count the ways —
Love had not chose me as its child. So I
Knew not what Love could hold for my long days.
It hid your hair, your skin, your mouth, your eye;
But I do now hear your deep voice, and lo
It does much please my ear and stirs in me
The whisperings of fondness for you — woe
Does cease when you do speak. Perhaps the key
To Love’s lost door is not so lost that all
The time must I search. Love does act though much
It wants for me to know its face, its call,
Its look, its mouth, its breath, its burning touch.
I fee that breath now, warm — that touch so hot.
Love’s hand to me proves “Alone” isn’t my lot.
