I Do Not Ask so Much

Ford Madox Hueffer

1873 to 1939

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I do not ask so much,
—O, bright-hued; oh, tender-eyed—
As you should sometimes shimmer at my side,
Oh, Fair.

I do not crave a touch,
Nor, at your comings hither,
Sound of soft laughter, savour of your hair,
Sight of your face; oh fair, oh full of grace,
I ask not, I.

But that you do not die,
Nor fade, oh bright, nor wither,
That somewhere in the world your sweet, dim face
Be unattainable, unpaled by fears,
Unvisited by years,
Stained by no tears.