MY thoughts <br />Chink against my ribs <br />And roll about like silver hail-stones. <br />I should like to spill them out, <br />And pour them, all shining, <br />Over you. <br />But my heart is shut upon them <br />And holds them straitly. <br />Come, You! and open my heart; <br />That my thoughts torment me no longer, <br />But glitter in your hair.<br /><br />Amy Lowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bullion/
