I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love by keats

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love by keats

I cry your mercy—pity—love!—ay, love!  

Merciful love that tantalises not One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,  

 Unmask'd, and being seen—without a blot! 

O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!  

 That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,  

 That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,— Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,  

 Withhold no atom's atom or I die, Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,   

Forget, in the mist of idle misery, Life's purposes,—the palate of my mind 

Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!