<h2>XXIX</h2>
<p>I think of thee!—my thoughts do twine and bud<br/>
About thee, as wild vines, about a tree,<br/>
Put out broad leaves, and soon there’s nought to see<br/>
Except the straggling green which hides the wood.<br/>
Yet, O my palm-tree, be it understood<br/>
I will not have my thoughts instead of thee<br/>
Who art dearer, better! Rather, instantly<br/>
Renew thy presence; as a strong tree should,<br/>
Rustle thy boughs and set thy trunk all bare,<br/>
And let these bands of greenery which insphere thee,<br/>
Drop heavily down,—burst, shattered everywhere!<br/>
Because, in this deep joy to see and hear thee<br/>
And breathe within thy shadow a new air,<br/>
I do not think of thee—I am too near thee.</p>
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