| George William (“A. E.”) Russell (1867–1935). Collected Poems by A.E. 1913. |
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| 117. Blindness |
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| OUR true hearts are forever lonely: | |
| A wistfulness is in our thought: | |
| Our lights are like the dawns which only | |
| Seem bright to us and yet are not. | |
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| Something you see in me I wis not: | 5 |
| Another heart in you I guess: | |
| A stranger’s lips—but thine I kiss not, | |
| Erring in all my tenderness. | |
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| I sometimes think a mighty lover | |
| Takes every burning kiss we give: | 10 |
| His lights are those which round us hover: | |
| For him alone our lives we live. | |
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| Ah, sigh for us whose hearts unseeing | |
| Point all their passionate love in vain, | |
| And blinded in the joy of being, | 15 |
| Meet only when pain touches pain. | |
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