<h2>XV</h2>
<p>Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear<br/>
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;<br/>
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine<br/>
With the same sunlight on our brow and hair.<br/>
On me thou lookest with no doubting care,<br/>
As on a bee shut in a crystalline;<br/>
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love’s divine,<br/>
And to spread wing and fly in the outer air<br/>
Were most impossible failure, if I strove<br/>
To fail so. But I look on thee—on thee—<br/>
Beholding, besides love, the end of love,<br/>
Hearing oblivion beyond memory;<br/>
As one who sits and gazes from above,<br/>
Over the rivers to the bitter sea.</p>
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