Standing in heaven unloved, companionless,
Enshrinèd be in some white–bosomed cloud,
And so forget his rage and loneliness;
If it were possible the bitter seas
Should suddenly grow sweet, till at their brink
Birds with bright eyes should stoop athirst and drink;
–If these were possible; and if to these
It should be proved that love has sometimes been
‘Twixt lambs and leopards, doves and hawks, that snow
Clasps the bare rocks, that rugged oaks grow green
In the west wind, that pinkest blossoms blow
Upon May’s blackest thorn;–then, only then,
I might believe that love between us two
Was still in heaven’s gift, sweet child.–And you?

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