Explore "The Love of Loves" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I have not seen her face, and yet / She is more sweet than any thing / Of Earth -- than rose or violet / That Mayday winds and sunbeams bring. / Of all we know, past or to come, / That beauty holds within its net, / She is the high compendium: / And yet --
I have not touched her robe, and still / She is more dear than lyric words / And music; or than strains that fill / The throbbing throats of forest birds. / Of all we mean by poetry, / That rules the soul and charms the will, / She is the deep epitome: / And still --
She is my world; ah, pity me! / A dream that flies whom I pursue; / Whom all pursue, whoe'er they be, / Who toil for art and dare and do. / The shadow-love for whom they sigh, / The far ideal affinity, / For whom they live and gladly die -- / Ah, me!