OUR true hearts are forever lonely: <br />A wistfulness is in our thought: <br />Our lights are like the dawns which only <br />Seem bright to us and yet are not. <br /> <br /> <br />Something you see in me I wis not: <br />Another heart in you I guess: <br />A stranger's lips—but thine I kiss not, <br />Erring in all my tenderness. <br /> <br /> <br />I sometimes think a mighty lover <br />Takes every burning kiss we give: <br />His lights are those which round us hover: <br />For him alone our lives we live. <br /> <br /> <br />Ah, sigh for us whose hearts unseeing <br />Point all their passionate love in vain, <br />And blinded in the joy of being, <br />Meet only when pain touches pain.<br /><br />George William Russell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blindness-23/
