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Arnold Klein

Love, to our side,
Like sapphires we solicit stars from, from their far side,

There still peeks out
A shy blue wink from round the eyes your lover seeks out:

How accost them?
We know, of sapphires, that the silken rays that frost them

Manifest stars
Most purely when we front them—and if such express stars

Are implied still,
Love, don’t blame your lover for the time he bides till,

Having shied long,
You hazard, to his sidelong glance, a glance as sidelong.