THOUGH I waste watches framing words to fetter Some spirit to mine own in clasp and kiss, Out of the night there looms a sense 'twere better To fail obtaining whom one fails to miss. For winning love we win the risk of losing, And losing love is as one's life were riven; It cuts like contumely and keen ill-using To cede what was superfluously given. Let me then feel no more the fateful thrilling That devastates the love-worn wooer's frame, The hot ado of fevered hopes, the chilling That agonizes disappointed aim! So may I live no junctive law fulfilling, And my heart's table bear no woman's name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE EMIGRATION TO AMERICA AND PEOPLING WESTERN COUNTRY by PHILIP FRENEAU DURING WIND AND RAIN by THOMAS HARDY HER DILEMMA; IN CHURCH by THOMAS HARDY SOMEBODY'S DARLING by MARIE LA CONTE IMAGINATION, FR. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |