Lacking only wings out-spread;
Almost it might upward flutter,
Wing its way above the sky,
Leave its fond but earthly lover,
And with saints and angels hover,
Face to face with God most high.
Yet, as ministers of Heaven
May sometimes with mortals dwell,
So thy presence sweet is given
Unto him who loves thee well!
Wistfully he now regards thee,
Knowing not if more is gained
By an outburst of affection,
Or by passion half restrained.
Filled with deep dissatisfaction,
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