Heart mine, art mine, whose embraces
Clasp but wind that past thee bloweth
E’en this air so subtly gloweth,
Guerdoned by thy sun-gold traces,
That my heart is half afraid
For the fragrance on him laid;
Even so love’s might amazes!
“I’m having the kind of dreams I have when a book is trying to tell me who to be so I can write it… I get up early, wincing away from them, feeling both manic and depressed.”