ACACIA 
Spiritual Affection. 
“I never have loved thee, yet strange though it be, 
So soft are the feelings I treasure for thee, 
That the wildest of passion could never impart 
More bliss to my soul or more Joy to my heart. 
“It comes o’er my breast in my happiest hours; 
It comes like the night-winds that ruffle the flowers; 
A feeling of softness—a thrilling of bliss— 
Say, is there no name for a feeling like this ? 
“It cannot be friendship—it cannot be love, 
Yet I know the sweet feeling descends from above, 
For it takes from my bosom no portion of ease, 
Yet adds all the rapture, the pleasure of these. 
“And so soft the emotion my spirit hath nursed, 
It is warm as the last and more pure than the first; 
For my heart when near thine grows as soft as a dove, 
Yet it cannot be friendship—it cannot be love.” 
“Oh! call it by some better name, 
For Friendship is too cold; 
And Love is now an earthly flame 
Whose shrine must be of gold; 
And Passion, like the sun at noon 
That burns o’er all he sees, 
Awhile as warm, will set as soon— 
Oh! call it none of these! 
“Imagine something purer far, 
More free from stain of clay, 
Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are, 
Yet human still as they; 
And if thy lip for Love like this, 
No mortal word can frame, 
Go—ask of angels what it is, 
And call it by that name!” 
