Sonnet II

Were my soul a land and sea, and thou begun
A wild climb ‘twixt the lichened stones to find
Midst tiny blossoms starred, bright fruits of mind
On thornèd tree, with much to seek and naught to shun:
Then deep thy reach, beyond the pale spines of sun
To salt anemone with fingered weed entwined,
And high, to arc of bird and leap of hind
The gentle shadow of thy hand would run.
But soft in human body snared and tied,
A single separate shade set ‘round with wrong,
I fold my beating heart within and, thus denied,
Shall be to thee but unexpected song
A dim and solitary stranger cried
Upon the road: I loved, I loved thee long.

~ Isabelle Rathbone Greene, c. 1894