You are my heart's dearest darling–
In travail's agony, in mood, in thought,
The emerald in my casket of psyche.
In the rose are You, and I find You in the thorn;
Ever I go on seeing You in the floral garden.
Amid buds, You are in a sweet and charming attire,
With each breath like a scented breeze.
Naught have I without You, Love;
Your discernment do I find, Yourself having sought.
With a thrill unworldly at every trice,
In all things contemplated peerless are You only.
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Blissfully, You are in everything I examine.
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