Zora Bernice May Cross Poems

What have you more than I, who crave you so?
Have I not hands and feet and thoughts to tell?
All my sweet senses and fine dreams that swell
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I cannot find a fault in you; and yet
I think you are not perfect many ways.
I have seen lips more meet for maiden praise
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Dearest, your mother feels (though dead) this birth—
Laughs at the fire within your shining eyes—
Your eyes, yet mine, wherein such glory lies
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I would not curse your England, wise as slow,
Just as unjust in deed.
I can believe that from her heart may flow
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My mind and heart both love you utterly.
And so each thought of mine is doubly yours,
And all my will about your body pours
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If there should be a moon above the hill
To-night, dip down with me into the sea
Of our first passion, and, with naked glee,
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Dearest, there is no part of us, but air
And earth are counterparts. Your fragrant eyes
Touching my own, some essence of the skies
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Give me a child!! Dear Heart, we have loved long,
Draining each other’s sweetness to the last
Wild drops of honeyed madness falling fast
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Do not surcharge our souls with that vile blame
To which our bodies are subjected here;
Nor heap them with the horror of dull fear
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I walked among the flowers that bend their heads
Low to the earth and back again to light,
Hearing them prattle of their blue and white—
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