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.