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O dearer than the soul that gives me breath,
Dearer than life, as the old proverb saith;
Nay, that is but a sorry compliment,—
For thou, my love, art dearer even than death.
Face like a glass wherein all heaven lies,
A firmament reflected in two eyes,
Thanks to your heaven I am deep in hell,
The shadow of your laughter is my sighs.
My cheeks like hollow cups are filled with tears,
My body is a haunted house of fears,
My heart is like a wine-jar filled with blood—
O God! those sightless eyes, those small deaf ears.
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