Email Poem

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Poem	MY faint spirit was sitting in the light Of thy looks my love; It panted for thee like the hind at noon For the brooks my love. Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight 5 Bore thee far from me; My heart for my weak feet were weary soon Did companion thee. Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed Or the death they bear 10 The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove With the wings of care; In the battle in the darkness in the need Shall mine cling to thee Nor claim one smile for all the comfort love 15 It may bring to thee.
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