Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like to thirsty, the sight of shore –
To touch, and yet not kiss the sea,
For the lips in wait are much too pure.
Oh, how can a heart find its cure?
The air – thy scent which had spread
Like the sunshine on a cotton field,
Swayed me as I trembled and prayed
For thy touch – to have me peeled;
Thy thoughts I have never shred.
Lo! in the gloomy dusk when thee stand
With a silent gaze on thy face,
My heart seeks no comfort but race
To kiss thy cheek, to caress thy hand,
at a comforting and gentle pace.
Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s To Helen which was first published in 1831.