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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ON THE FLYLEAF OF MANON LESCAUT, by WALTER LEARNED First Line: To you, whose temperate pulses flow Last Line: They hold the mirror up to you. | |||
To you, whose temperate pulses flow With measured beat, serene and slow, The even tenor of whose way Is undisturbed by passion's sway, This tale of wayward love may seem The record of a fevered dream. And yet, we two have that within To make us what our kind have been. A lure more strong, a wish more faint, Makes one a monster, one a saint; And even love, by difference nice, Becomes a virtue or a vice. The briar, that o'er the garden wall Trails its sweet blossoms till they fall Across the dusty road, and then Are trodden under foot of men, Is sister to the decorous rose Within the garden's well-kept close, Whose pinioned branches may not roam Out and beyond their latticed home. There's many a life of sweet content Whose virtue is environment. They erred, they fell; and yet, 'tis true, They hold the mirror up to you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN EXPLANATION by WALTER LEARNED MARJORIE'S KISSES by WALTER LEARNED ON THE FLYLEAF OF A BOOK OF OLD PLAYS by WALTER LEARNED THE PRIME OF LIFE by WALTER LEARNED WITH A SPRAY OF APPLE BLOSSOMS by WALTER LEARNED WHEN I RISE UP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON UNDER THE VIOLETS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 71 by OMAR KHAYYAM |
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