REGRET
Reading edition
Ah, would that from this night, sweet, My voice could lift to thee, For the night doth bring regret, sweet, Of some small thing unsaid,— Some finger-touch forgotten, A kiss that ne’er was real, A lost glance of thine eyes, sweet, Some odor of thy hair; The whisper of thy breath, sweet, The heaven of thy lips, And all the thrilling whiteness Of thy two perfect feet; The harbor of thy arms, dear, The healing of thy hands,— Yea, all that mystic firmament Of miracle of thee.
