Tennyson’s Suppressed Poems

XXXI

Sonnet

Alfred Tennyson


ON, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet!
    How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs;
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
    Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
    My arms about thee—scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
    As with one kiss to touch thy blessèd cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control
    Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
    The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word kiss hath made my inner soul
    To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
    Hath melted in the silence that it broke.


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