Letter 8: My Love… She Fears…

My Love, being herself, she fears,
Does she not know how much she’s dear?
How much I’ve sought her all these years!
How well I sleep—knowing she’s near,

My Little Love, herself, she keeps,
Until her panic lurks and creeps,
& though I know, for I am so,
I cannot soothe her as she sleeps,
O’how I’d hug her pains away,
every night and every day,
& though I know, I may be so,
I may have fears & I may stray,
Yet as she sleeps,
All my toil reaps,
A blessing of eternal day…

My Little Love, seldom she stays,
& though for every breath I pray,
that one day she would love her days,
That one day, she won’t go away…

My Little Love, stricken, afraid,
& so am I, what have I made,
I surely must deserve to die,
No matter how I pled and prayed.
O’how I’d hug her fears away,
every night and every day,
Before she leaves, not knowing why.
I can’t but kiss her wounds away,
& yet my maid,
is still afraid,
& in her absence, I can’t but stray…

My Little Love, she only fears,
the way she is, the way she does,
the way she’ll be & the way she was,
My Little Love, she only fears,
Yet if she knows, how fine & fair,
she is—Certainly, she shall not dare,
to leave me and to leave me tears;

My Little Love, she only fears:
Being herself, being as fair,
How she breaks away all my frontiers,
How I envy all things touching her..
My Little Love, she can’t but fear,
Unknowing, how much she is dear,
How much in me, she conquers fear…


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