Sonnet XVII

    I do not love you as if you -rose, or topaz,

    or tions ts off.

    I love you as certain dark to be loved,

    in secret, bethe soul.

    I love you as t t never blooms

    but carries in itself t of hidden flowers;

    to your love a certain solid fragrance,

    risen from th, lives darkly in my body.

    I love you  knowing how, or when, or from where.

    I love you straig complexities or pride;

    so I love you because I knoher way

    t exist, nor you,

    so close t your  is my hand,

    so close t your eyes close as I fall asleep.