I SHE, that I pursue, still flies me; Her, that follows me, I fly; She, that I still court, denies me: Her, that courts me, I deny. Thus in one web we're subt'ly wove, And yet we mutiny in love. II She, that can save me, must not do it, She, that cannot, fain would do: Her love is bound, yet I still woo it: Hers by love is bound in woe. Yet, how can I of Love complain, Since I have love for love again. III This is thy work, imperious Child, Thine is this labyrinth of love, That thus hast our desires beguil'd, Nor see'st how thine arrows rove, Then pri'thee, to compose this stir, Make her love me, or me love her. IV But, if irrevocable are Those keen shafts, that wound us so; Let me prevail with thee thus far, That thou once more take thy bow; Wound her hard heart, and by my troth, I'll be content to take them both. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN by THOMAS HARDY THE NATURAL FIRE by CLIFFORD ALLEN AEOLIAN HARP (2) by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE VAICES THAT BE GONE by WILLIAM BARNES SONNET TO A FRIEND, ON HIS SECOND MARRIAGE by BERNARD BARTON LA SAISIAZ: PROLOGUE by ROBERT BROWNING |