Explore "The House of Faith" by Francis Sherman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I would not have thee, dear, in darkness sit, / On days like this, hand clasped in quiet hand, / Remembering mournfully that fragrant land -- / Each day therein, the joy we had of it.
Rather, while still the lamps are trimmed and lit, / Bid strangers to the feasts that once we planned, / Merry the while! Until the dust's demand / My soul, not thine, shall separately submit.
So, when thou comest (for I at last will call / And thou shalt hear, and linger not at all), / Still to thy throat, thine arms, thy loosened hair / Will cling the savour of the World's fresh kiss, / So sweet to me! and doubly sweet for this -- / That thou for mine shouldst leave a place so fair!