WHENE'ER I view those lips of thine, Their hue invites my fervent kiss; Yet I forego that bliss divine, Alas, it were unhallow'd bliss! Whene'er I dream of that pure breast, How could I dwell upon its snows! Yet is the daring wish repress'd, For that -- would banish its repose. A glance from thy soul-searching eye Can raise with hope, depress with fear; Yet I conceal my love -- and why? I would not force a painful tear. I ne'er have told my love, yet thou Hast seen my ardent flame too well; And shall I plead my passion now, To make thy bosom's heaven a hell? No! for thou never canst be mine, United by the priest's decree: By any ties but those divine, Mine, my beloved, thou ne'er shalt be. Then let the secret fire consume, Let it consume, thou shalt not know: With joy I court a certain doom, Rather than spread its guilty glow. I will not ease my tortured heart, By driving dove-eyed peace from thine; Rather than such a sting impart, Each thought presumptuous I resign. Yes! yield those lips, for which I'd brave More than I here shall dare to tell; Thy innocence and mine to save, -- I bid thee now a last farewell. Yes! yield that breast, to seek despair, And hope no more thy soft embrace; Which to obtain my soul would dare, All, all reproach -- but thy disgrace. At least from guilt shalt thou be free, No matron shall thy shame reprove; Though cureless pangs may prey on me, No martyr shalt thou be to love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAT LADY by HAYDEN CARRUTH DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. BURKE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ONE WORD MORE by ROBERT BROWNING LANDSCAPE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE M. T. W. by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN BLIGHTED LOVE by LUIS DE CAMOENS GOLD! by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS SONG (2); SET BY MR. COLEMAN by CHARLES COTTON EPISTLE TO HENRY WRIOTHESLEY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON by SAMUEL DANIEL |