Last Love

My dear, my very dearest dear,
To think a heart should beat so madly
As an untamed bird held in the hand.
How I should love to hold you, kiss you,
But I dare not touch your arm or hand.
Should I but share the gift of laughter
That still is mine to give
I would but be ashamed, for
You would never understand
The wild surging of old blood,
Under an old face,
That once again has learned to live.