TOO meek by half was he who came A-wooing me one morn, For he thought so little of himself I learned to share his scorn. At night I had a suitor, vain As the vainest in the land; Almost he seemed to condescend In the offer of his hand. In one who pressed his suit I missed Courage and manly pride; And how could I think of such a one As a leader and a guide? And then there came a worshiper With such undoubting trust, That when he knelt he seemed not worth Upraising from the dust. The next was never in the wrong, Was not too smooth nor rough; So faultless and so good was he, That that was fault enough. But one, the last of all who came, I know not how to paint; No angel do I seem to him -- He scarcely calls me saint! He hath such sins and weaknesses As mortal man befall; He hath a thousand faults, and yet I love him with them all! He never asked me yea nor nay, Nor knelt to me one hour; But he took my heart, and holds my heart With a lover's tender power. And I bow, as needs I must, and say, In proud humility, Love's might is right, and I yield at last To manhood's royalty! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 3. THAILALND by KAREN SWENSON MOTLEY: MUSIC by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE JOURNEY by EMILY DICKINSON ODE TO THE WEST WIND by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE WITHERED ROSE by PHILIP AYRES A WOMAN SCALY by WILLIAM BLAKE |