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.