---

Alfred Lord Tennyson - Fatima
Work rating: Medium

O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might! 
O sun, that from thy noonday height 
Shudderest when I strain my sight, 
Throbbing thro` all thy heat and light, 
      Lo, falling from my constant mind, 
      Lo, parch`d and wither`d, deaf and blind, 
      I whirl like leaves in roaring wind. 
 
Last night I wasted hateful hours 
Below the city`s eastern towers: 
I thirsted for the brooks, the showers: 
I roll`d among the tender flowers: 
      I crush`d them on my breast, my mouth; 
      I look`d athwart the burning drouth 
      Of that long desert to the south. 
 
Last night, when some one spoke his name, 
From my swift blood that went and came 
A thousand little shafts of flame 
Were shiver`d in my narrow frame. 
      O Love, O fire! once he drew 
      With one long kiss my whole soul thro` 
      My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. 
 
Before he mounts the hill, I know 
He cometh quickly: from below 
Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow 
Before him, striking on my brow. 
      In my dry brain my spirit soon, 
      Down-deepening from swoon to swoon, 
      Faints like a daled morning moon. 
 
The wind sounds like a silver wire, 
And from beyond the noon a fire 
Is pour`d upon the hills, and nigher 
The skies stoop down in their desire; 
      And, isled in sudden seas of light, 
      My heart, pierced thro` with fierce delight, 
      Bursts into blossom in his sight. 
 
My whole soul waiting silently, 
All naked in a sultry sky, 
Droops blinded with his shining eye: 
I will possess him or will die. 
      I will grow round him in his place, 
      Grow, live, die looking on his face, 
      Die, dying clasp`d in his embrace.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.