Love, thou are deep:
I cannot cross thee.
But, were there Two
Instead of One —
Rower, and Yacht — some sovereign Summer —
Who knows, but we’d reach the Sun?
Love, thou are Veiled:
A few behold thee,
Smile, and alter, and prattle, and die.
Bliss were an Oddity, without thee,
Nicknamed by God
From Emily Dickinson, Love, thou art high