Three is not a crowd when she is the third. Surely such ironic tribute is absurd: And yet it was not said in jest, He holds her separate from the rest. He would set her on an altar of her own, Bring her pine incense and burn it in a cone: And he would share the fragrance of the pine With a fond comrade at her shrine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SLUG IN WOODS by EARL (EARLE) BIRNEY LINES INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM A SKULL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO HIS MISTRESS OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING by ROBERT HERRICK BROODING GRIEF by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE TURN O LIBERTAD by WALT WHITMAN |