I might not have it then — I might not, yet <br />She was so near to me, could I forget <br />She might be nearer? There was in her eyes — <br />What shall I say? — a hint of the sunrise <br />Of her heart's day: would it then break on me <br />In my life's glory, or should I but see <br />The malediction of that morning pour <br />Disaster on my heart for evermore? <br />I did not know, and all I was became <br />A hush, a wonder. I scarce breathed her name, <br />Scarce dared to read her eyes too deeply, lest <br />Wrath in their tenderness should be exprest; <br />When suddenly love's lightning ran a streak <br />Up the white throat into the pallid cheek; <br />Her eyes took wonder too — and even thus <br />What we to either were, revealed to us, <br />Rose like God's heaven, at once, in such a way <br />For aye; and her eyes fell as mine took sway <br />Upon the moment when she knew it all, <br />And knew in knowing it beyond recall <br />Was the confession which her heart had made <br />With eyes, not lips, ere lips to mine were laid — <br />That mystic moment, when all she was drew <br />Out of herself, as all that I was too, <br />Emptied of self, then found itself in her.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-love-s-beginning/
