For this thou speak, though doubtful would suppose,
Nor hesitate obliquely to confess.
Regarding friendship still, thou might obsess
Beyond all compass; thrill-swept, as the throes
Wherewith to cloy thyself so rapt, express
Thine own determined joy. But not oppose
Desire desire‘s object might impose.
Conspired and familiar, this excess:
Unnamed delight, and wicked to implore,
This: framed–as though for art, or to explore,
Or greater havoc know–it would appear
Unleashed, a glow one nary could ignore
In life’s brief curtain: coy, intent, sincere
Thou wouldst covert revere; but not adore.