I Think I Should Have Loved You Presently, And Given In Earnest Words I Flung In Jest; And Lifted Honest Eyes For You To See, And Caught Your Hand Against My Cheek And Breast; And All My Pretty Follies Flung Aside That Won You To Me, And Beneath Your Gaze, Naked Of Reticence And Shorn Of Pride, Spread Like A Chart My Little Wicked Ways. I, That Had Been To You, Had You Remained, But One More Waking From A Recurrent Dream, Cherish No Less The Certain Stakes I Gained, And Walk Your Memory'S Halls, Austere, Supreme, A Ghost In Marble Of A Girl You Knew Who Would Have Loved You In A Day Or Two.