The Feeling-House
Love reigns in the feeling-house
Warmth in the hearth,
Wooing weaves you a blanket
With which to warm you in lonely nights .
Loves has smithed us a ring each
to Troth, and bind us
Though smitten by the powerful weapon
of love
The dead envy, and the living too,
For the life-yearning bees
Which seek their sweetness
In flowers,
Have reserved for us their honey.
And thus my love burns
as daily as the sun
For you, my only, truly
Loved girl.
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