Sometimes your nearness takes my breath away;
and all the things I want to say can find no
voice. Then, in silence, I can only hope my
eyes will speak my heart.
All love at first, like generous wine,
Ferments and frets until ‘tis fine;
But when ‘tis settled on the lee,
And from th’ impurer matter free,
Become the richer still the older,
And proves the pleasanter the colder.
