Explore "Sonnets" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Nay, touch me not, nor even with your eyes / Hold mine, for I would speak you, thus afar, / Aloof and chill and lonely as a star.
The hands that urge, the hungry heart that cries, / Have wrapped my love with love's elusive lies; / The lips that burn have laid a ruddy scar / Against the truth that stands without the bar, / And blinded faith with passion's mysteries.