Where are the eyes whose meeting mine enflamed
My senses and made me, as if insane
(Which I would not deny if it were claimed)
Start all about in mimicry of pain
Despite being unhurt - well, bodily.
Where is the face that I would contemplate
As if my eyes would strike, and cease to see,
Should I have looked away. Why must I wait
For heaven? Or if heaven will not come,
And I, poor soul, can't seek it on my own,
Must I perforce remain blind, deaf, and dumb,
(For if I am without you, and alone,
Those sense have no purpose)? If I must,
Tell me why I should not call you unjust?
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