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by Archibald MacLeish, 1917

Since my Beloved chambered me
   To beat within her breast,
And took my soul to light a shrine
   Her soul had decked and dressed,
And caught my songs about her throat,—
   Dissected, known, confessed,
I dwell within her charity
   A half-unwelcome guest.

Published in Tower of Ivory
Tags: love, lust, marriage

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