How does love speak? In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek, and in the pallor that succeeds it; by the quivering lid of an averted eye the smile that proves the parent to a sigh. How does love speak? By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak of bounding pulses that stand still and ache, while new emotions, like strange barges, make along vein-channels their disturbing course; still as the dawn, and with the dawn's swift force. How does love speak? In the avoidance of that which we seek the sudden silence and reserve when near the eye that glistens with an unshed tear the joy that seems the counterpart of fear, as the alarmed heart leaps in the breast, and knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest. In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek the haughty heart grown humble; in the tender and unnamed light that floods the world with splendor; in the resemblance which the fond eyes trace in all fair things to one beloved face; in the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble; in looks and lips that can no more dissemble. In the wild words that uttered seem so weak they shrink ashamed in silence; in the fire glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher, like lightnings that precede the mighty storm; in the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm, impassioned tide that sweeps through throbbing veins, between the shores of keen delights and pains; in the embrace where madness melts in bliss, and in the convulsive rapture of a kiss thus doth love speak. ♡