There does exist e'er a distance bet'n us.
Perhaps that's why our love does endless prosper,
As none does dare for the distance to cross
Lest love with fleshly touches should be impure.
So I meet not her, nor does she meet me,
And gone are years in our estrangement;
But I'm what I'd been, she's what she used to be,
As love goes e'er more long, more strong, more ardent.
Howe'er, can e'er the moon and the lily meet?
But each for t'other does in raptures bloom,
And they--connected by some holy spirit--
Each in the other get entirely subsumed.
Thus in love is gayly lost each being,
That no physical love's so gratifying.
-- N P SAMAL
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