I hold your trembling hand to-night-- and yet <br />I may not know what wealth of bliss is mine, <br />My heart is such a curious design <br />Of trust and jealousy! Your eyes are wet-- <br />So must I think they jewel some regret--, <br />And lo, the loving arms that round me twine <br />Cling only as the tendrils of a vine <br />Whose fruit has long been gathered: I forget, <br />While crimson clusters of your kisses press <br />Their wine out on my lips, my royal fair <br />Of rapture, since blind fancy needs must guess <br />They once poured out their sweetness otherwhere, <br />With fuller flavoring of happiness <br />Than e'en your broken sobs may now declare.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dearth/
