Maids, not to you my mind doth change; Men I defy, allure, estrange, Prostrate, make bond or free: Soft as the stream beneath the plane To you I sing my love's refrain; Between us is no thought of pain, Peril, satiety. Soon doth a lover's patience tire, But ye to manifold desire Can yield response, ye know When for long, museful days I pine, The presage at my heart divine; To you I never breathe a sign Of inward want or woe. When injuries my spirit bruise, Allaying virtue ye infuse With unobtrusive skill: And if care frets ye come to me As fresh as nymph from stream or tree, And with your soft vitality My weary bosom fill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF ALEXANDER DUMAS by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT AS KINGFISHERS CATCH FIRE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE [DECEMBER 2, 1859] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 1 by MARK AKENSIDE THE WAGES OF PRIDE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE ROWFANT CATALOGUE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FOURTH ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |