"I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it."
"Now you are come! You tremble like a star Poised where, behind earth's rim, the sun has set. Your voice has sung across my heart, but numb And mute, I have no tones to answer."
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Source: Amy Lowell (1955). “Complete poetical works: With an introd. by Louis Untermeyer”
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