Two sonnets

I must not think of thee; and, tired [yet]1 strong,
  I shun the [love]2 that lurks in all delight --
  The [love]3 of thee -- [and]4 in the blue heaven's height,
[And]4 in the [dearest]5 passage of a song.
Oh, just beyond the [sweetest]3 thoughts that throng
  This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet bright;
  But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.
But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
  When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Must doff my will as raiment laid away, --
  With the first dream that comes with the first sleep
I run, I run, I am gather'd to thy heart.

My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,
   Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
   Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal thine alone.
 
Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
   Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.
   But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.
 
For as these come and go, and quit our pine
   To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers,
      Sing one song only from our alder-trees,
 
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine,
   Flit to the silent world and other summers,
      With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.