What Happens?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

When thy hand touches mine, through all the mesh
   Of intricate and interlaced veins
   Shoot swift delights that border on keen pains:
Flesh thrills to thrilling flesh.

When in thine eager eyes I look to find
   A comrade to my thought, thy ready brain
   Delves down and makes its inmost meaning plain:
Mind answers unto mind.

When hands and eyes are hid by seas that roll
   Wide wastes between us, still so near thou art
   I count the very pulses of thy heart:
Soul speaketh unto soul.

So every law, or human or divine,
In heart and brain and spirit makes thee mine.

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