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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536356" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Woman’s Sonnets: IX</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536356" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The day draws nigh, methinks, when I could stay<br>Calm in thy presence with no dream of ill,<br>When, having put all earthliness away,<br>I could be near thee, touching thee, and still<br>Feel no mad throbbing at my foolish heart,<br>No sudden rising of unbidden tears,<br>Could mark thee come and go, to meet our part,<br>Without the gladness and without the fears.<br>Have patience with me then for this short space.<br>I shall be wise, but may not yet unmoved<br>See a strange woman put into my place<br>And happy in thy love, as I was loved:<br>This were too much. Ah, let me not yet see<br>The love--light in thine eyes, and not for me.</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=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>

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