Poem by Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 1. 1. Sonnet (I know not if I love her overmuch)

           (AFTER THE ITALIAN)

I know not if I love her overmuch;
⁠     But this I know, that when unto her face
⁠     She lifts her hand, which rests there, still, a space,
⁠     Then slowly falls—'t is I who feel that touch.
And when she sudden shakes her head, with such
⁠     A look, I soon her secret meaning trace.
⁠     So when she runs I think 't is I who race.
     ⁠Like a poor cripple who has lost his crutch
I am if she is gone; and when she goes,
⁠     I know not why, for that is a strange art—
     ⁠As if myself should from myself depart.
I know not if I love her more than those
⁠     Who long her light have known; but for the rose
     ⁠She covers in her hair, I'd give my heart.

1. The New Day. Part 4. 17. “He Knows Not the Path of Duty”
2. The New Day. Part 3. 12. Denial
3. The New Day. Part 3. 19. Thistle-Down
4. The New Day. Part 4. 4. Song (Not from the whole wide world I chose thee)
5. The New Day. Part 3. 22. The Lover's Lord and Master

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