Explore "He who Loves" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ For him God's birds each merry morn / Make of wild throats melodious flutes / To trill such love from brush and thorn / As might brim eyes of brutes: / Who would believe of such a thing, / That 'tis her heart which makes them sing?
/ For him the faultless skies of noon / Grow farther in eternal blue, / As heavens that buoy the balanced moon, / And sow the stars and dew: / Who would believe that such deep skies / Are miracles only through her eyes?
/ For him mad sylphs adown domed nights / Stud golden globules radiant, / Or glass-green transient trails of lights / Spin from their orbs and slant: / Who would believe a soul were hers / To make for him a universe?