The Magic Ring / Edith Nesbit

Your touch on my hand is fire,

Your lips on my lips are flowers.

My darling, my one desire,

Dear crown of my days and hours.

Dear crown of each hour and day

Since ever my life began.

Ah! leave me--ah! go away -

We two are woman and man.

To lie in your arms and see

The stars melt into the sun;

Till there is no you and me,

Since you and I are one.

To loose my soul to your breath,

To bare my heart to your life -

It is death, it is death, it is death!

I am not your wife.

The hours will come and will go,

But never again such an hour

When the tides immortal flow

And life is a flood, a flower . . .

Wait for the ring; it is strong,

It has a magic of might

To make all that was splendid and wrong

Sordid and right.