Would'st thou be with me, if thou knewest the whole? I cannot tell: my sins are black indeed,— And yet for every sin I've had to bleed, Till pale and bloodless is the exhausted soul. Would still thy woman's pity intercede, And still thy white hand linger in my own? Or should I find myself adrift, alone,— Like one shell in the Atlantic, or one weed? One thing there is,—if sins of mine are large, Large is the ocean of my suffering too, And terribly wave-beaten all its marge: This, seeing my whole life, thou would'st have to view,— And thou would'st mark besides a broken targe, Which once a girl's slight arrow struck right through. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING AND FALL: TO A YOUNG CHILD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE WATERFALL by HENRY VAUGHAN SONNET: 'EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY' by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE PRINCE OF PEACE by EDWARD HENRY BICKERSTETH VILLAGE GREEN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE BLUNDER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE QUI TRANSTULIT SUSTINET by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD SYMBOL OF OUR COUNTRY by MAUD MCKINSEY BUTLER LINES SUGGESTED BY THE STATUE OF ARNOLD VON WINKELRIED STANZ-UNTERWALDEN by THOMAS CAMPBELL |