I am not worthy of thy worship, love!— There are within me hosts of passions yet Whose angry serried spear-ranks must be met: Fierce warriors whose keen swords against me move! Oh, we have talked in many a blossomy grove Of happiness,—but am I worthy thee? O love, love, love of mine,—if thou could'st see My whole grim life, would'st thou that life approve? Oh, thou art white, and thou would'st shrink away! The whitest thing about me is the red: Thy wings are golden,—mine are gaunt and grey; Sins black and endless beat about my head With flapping plumes and urgent lips that say, "Dark would thy soul be, had that soul not bled." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MITHRIDATES by RALPH WALDO EMERSON BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR SISTER CAROLINE [DECEMBER 2O, 1860] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE MAHOGANY TREE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY IN THE GOLD ROOM by OSCAR WILDE A SONG OF LIFE by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA A CHILD TO HIS SICK GRANDFATHER by JOANNA BAILLIE ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |