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And you love me

 And you love me

I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you, Man's opinions, a thousand thickets, My interwoven existence, My life, Caught in the stubble of the world Like a tender veil -- This stays me.
No strange move can I make Without noise of tearing I dare not.
If love loves, There is no world Nor word.
All is lost Save thought of love And place to dream.
You love me? I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but, beloved --

by Stephen Crane
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