HIS constant wonder keeps him back From flying either far or straight; Confined by thy great beauty here, My life is like that butterfly's, With every source of wonder near. Let me go burning to my death: Nothing can come between our minds To ease me of this passion's greed: We'll bite each other's necks like dogs, And ask our fingers if we bleed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUTUMN DIALOGUE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER HAPPY WIND by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: THE BEGINNER by RUDYARD KIPLING WINTER, FR. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE CHARWOMAN by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS TRINITIE SUNDAY (FOR A BASE AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |