I only know that every hour with you Is torture to me, and that I would be From your two poignant lovelinesses free! Rainbows, green fire, white diamonds, the fierce blue Of shimmering ice-bergs, or to be shot through With lightning or a sword incessantly— Such things have beauty, doubtless; but to me Mist, shadow, silence—these are lovely, too. There is no shelter in you anywhere; Rhythmic intolerable, your burning rays Trample upon me, withering my breath; I will be gone, and rid of you, I swear: To stand upon the peaks of Love always Proves but that part of Love whose name is d**h.