Sometimes I wonder if you guess
                                                                       The deep impassioned tenderness
                                                Which overflows my heart;
                                                                  The love I never dare confess;
                                                                                     Yet hard, yea, harder to repress
                                                      Than tears too fain to start.

                               Sometimes I ponder, O my sweet,
                                                                                            The things I'll tell you when we meet;
                                                        But straightway at your sight
                                          My heart's blood oozes to my feet
                        Like thawing waters in the heat,
                                                       Confused with too much light.

                                                                         I hardly know, when you are near,
                                          If it is love, or joy, or fear
                                                                                                             Which fills my languid frame;
                                              Enveloped in your atmosphere,
                         My dark self seems to disappear,
                                                                         A moth entombed in flame.