And you love me by Stephen Crane
And you love me
I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you, Man's opinions, a thousand thickets, My interwoven existence, My life, Caught in the stubble of the world Like a tender veil -- This stays me. No strange move can I make Without noise of tearing I dare not.
If love loves, There is no world Nor word. All is lost Save thought of love And place to dream. You love me?
I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but, beloved --
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