Stephen Crane

And You Love Me

And you love me I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you, Man's opinions, a thousand thickets, My interwoven existence, My life, Caught in the stubble of the world Like a tender veil -- This stays me. No strange move can I make Without noise of tearing I dare not. If love loves, There is no world Nor word. All is lost Save thought of love And place to dream. You love me? I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved --

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