OH, but is it not hard, Dear? Mine are the nerves to quake at a mouse: If a spider drops I shrink with fear: I should die outright in a haunted house; While for you -- did the danger dared bring help -- From a lion's den I could steal his whelp, With a serpent round me, stand stock-still, Go sleep in a churchyard, -- so would will Give me the power to dare and do Valiantly -- just for you! Much amiss in the head, Dear, I toil at a language, tax my brain Attempting to draw -- the scratches here! I play, play, practise, and all in vain: But for you -- if my triumph brought you pride, I would grapple with Greek Plays till I died, Paint a portrait of you -- who can tell? Work my fingers off for your "Pretty well:" Language and painting and music too, Easily done -- for you! Strong and fierce in the heart, Dear, With -- more than a will -- what seems a power To pounce on my prey, love outbroke here In flame devouring and to devour. Such love has labored its best and worst To win me a lover; yet, last as first, I have not quickened his pulse one beat, Fixed a moment's fancy, bitter or sweet: Yet the strong fierce heart's love's labor's due, Utterly lost, was -- you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGLER'S SONG by WILLIAM BASSE THE HEATHEN PASS-EE by ARTHUR CLEMENT HILTON SONGS OF TRAVEL: 26. IF THIS WERE FAITH by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE LAY OF ST. NICHOLAS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM YELLOW WARBLERS by KATHARINE LEE BATES PORTRAIT SONNETS: 4 by HENRY BELLAMANN THE END OF IT by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR TO LADY B- W-, PRESENTING THE AUTHOR WITH A MOIETY OF A LOTTERY TICKET by JOHN BYROM |