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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354889" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354889" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">SHE loves me! From her own bliss-breathing lips <br> The live confession came, like rich perfume <br> From crimson petals bursting into bloom! <br>And still my heart at the remembrance skips <br>Like a young lion, and my tongue too trips <br> As drunk with joy! while every object seen <br> In life’s diurnal round wears in its mien <br>A clear assurance that no doubts eclipse. <br>And if the common things of nature now <br> Are like old faces flushed with new delight, <br>Much more the consciousness of that rich vow <br> Deepens the beauteous, and refines the bright, <br> While throned I seem on love’s divinest height <br>’Mid all the glories glowing round its brow. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=354889" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"></a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Charles+Harpur">Charles Harpur</a></strong></div>