Sonnet XXI — Say over again, and yet once over again

Say over again and yet once over againThat thou dost love me. Though the word repeatedShould seem "a cuckoo-song," as thou dost treat it,Remember never to the hill or plain,Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain,Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed!Beloved, I, amid the darkness greetedBy a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt's painCry . . speak once more . . thou lovest! Who can fearToo many stars, though each in heaven shall roll—Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?Say thou dost love me, love me, love me—tollThe silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,To love me also in silence, with thy soul.