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1865–1940

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Laurence Alma-Tadema

Dearest of all, and nearest though most far! My spirit follows you across both sea And land; all bounds, all spaces, are to me Erased; my heart upon its winged car

Of thought outstrips you; nothing now shall mar My joy in you, O brother!— save that we Are of the earth and ask to touch and see The thing we love upon this yearning star.

O world of strange desires! Have not we two Lived to behold each other and to smile? Have our two notes not mingled in one chord? What ails us? Were we joined this earthly while,

You would not love me better than you do, Nor in my heart be otherwise adored.

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X · Laurence Alma-Tadema · Poetry Cove