Explore "Caroline Branson" by Edgar Lee Masters on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
With our hearts like drifting suns, had we but walked, / As often before, the April fields till star-light / Silkened over with viewless gauze the darkness / Under the cliff, our trysting place in the wood, / Where the brook turns! Had we but passed from wooing / Like notes of music that run together, into winning, / In the inspired improvisation of love!
But to put back of us as a canticle ended / The rapt enchantment of the flesh, / In which our souls swooned, down, down, / Where time was not, nor space, nor ourselves --