Longing
My heart is full of inarticulate pain,And beats laboriously. Ungenial looksInvade my sanctuary. Men of gain,Wise in success, well-read in feeble books,Do not come near me now, your air is drear;'Tis winter and low skies when ye appear.Beloved, who love beauty and love truth!Come round me; for too near ye cannot come;Make me an atmosphere…
