Distressing Beauty

It seems strange I should like something like this.
That I should like the dangerous latency
Of her beauty condemning the dull bliss
Of my long custom and complacency
Which, unaccountably, gives no delight
Whenever I see her come upon my view.
I eminently hope that this dark night
Will leave, but in the meanwhile, it is true.

I never knew how something formerly
Repugnant to me should now seem so good
Or why her passionate loveliness could be
Integral to the fullness of my day,
Or why I miss her more than I can say  
And long to see again where she has stood.