In Love

To be in love 
Is to touch with a lighter hand. 
In yourself you stretch, you are well. 
You look at things 
Through her eyes. 
A cardinal is red. 
A sky is blue. 
Suddenly you know she didn't know. 
She is not there but 
You know you are tasting together 
The winter, or a light spring weather. 
Her hand to take your hand is overmuch. 
Too much to bear. 
You cannot look in her eyes 
Because your pulse must not say 
What must not be said. 
When she Shuts a door
Is not there
Your arms are water. 
And you are free 
With a ghastly freedom. 
You are the beautiful half 
Of a golden hurt. 
You remember and covet her mouth 
To touch, to whisper on. 
Oh when to declare 
Is certain Death! 
To see fall down, the Column of Gold, Into the commonest ash.