To Fanny

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love!
     Merciful love that tantalises not
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
     Unmask'd, and being seen—without a blot!
O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!
     That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,
     That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,—
Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,
     Withhold no atom's atom or I die,
Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,
     Forget, in the mist of idle misery,
Life's purposes,—the palate of my mind
Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!