William Charles Wentworth

Here you will find the Poem Love of poet William Charles Wentworth

Love

She loves me! From her own bliss-breathing lips 
   The live confession came, like rich perfume 
   From crimson petals bursting into bloom! 
And still my heart at the remembrance skips 
Like a young lion, and my tongue, too, trips 
   As drunk with joy! while every object seen 
   In life's diurnal round wears in its mien 
A clear assurance that no doubts eclipse. 
And if the common things of nature now 
   Are like old faces flushed with new delight, 
Much more the consciousness of that rich vow 
   Deepens the beauteous, and refines the bright, 
   While throned I seem on love's divinest height 
'Mid all the glories glowing round its brow.