Those envied places which do know her well, <br />And are so scornful of this lonely place, <br />Even now for once are emptied of her grace: <br />Nowhere but here she is: and while Love's spell <br />From his predominant presence doth compel <br />All alien hours, an outworn populace, <br />The hours of Love fill full the echoing space <br />With sweet confederate music favourable. <br />Now many memories make solicitous <br />The delicate love-lines of her mouth, till, lit <br />With quivering fire, the words take wing from it; <br />As here between our kisses we sit thus <br />Speaking of things remembered, and so sit <br />Speechless while things forgotten call to us.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xvi-a-day-of-love/
