My beauty I will lock away;
my eager longing out of sight;
behind a star-small window lay
what used to stand watch night by night
when lately, slowly, evening came
and dread like mist arose
that I should no more find my name
within the space your lips enclose.
Few and silent tears will drain
what grief I fail thus to contain.

It is too long this time, my dear,
to suffer much sustained suspense:
My laugh will ring, my eye be clear,
my gladness be our bond’s defense;
and courage each day distill within
the selfsame cup my tea steeps in.

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