Yes, the spirit that peeps,
Yes the heart that reaps,
The Dumb of my greater being,
A share of something,
That impels with haunting ring.
If you call it Love,
I would not say a word,
For all logic here fails,
And all that clumsy it controls.
Why and where knowing not,
Like the lark in heart's sky it floats.
Dearest, never need to say,
But your Dumb languages me,
What has happened merits feeling,
The rarest treasure of my mundane Being..
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