âheart fit to breakâ
âshe shut the cold out and the stormâ
âlet the damp hair fallâ
âshe put my arm about her waistâ
âher yellow hairâ
âtoo weak⌠to set its struggling passion freeâ
âfrom pride and vainer ties dissever, // And give herself to me foreverâ
âPorphyria worshipped meâ
âshe was mine, mine, fair, // Perfectly pure and goodâ
âI am quite sure she felt no painâ
âsmiling rosy little headâ
âHer darling one wish sould be heardâ
âyet God has not said a wordâ