IF you refuse me once, and think again I will complain, You are deceiv'd: love is no work of art, It must be got and born, Not made and worn, Or such wherein you have no part. Or do you think they more than once can die, Whom you deny, Who tell you of a thousand deaths a day, Like the old poets feign, And tell the pain They met but in the common way? Or do you think it is too soon to yield, And quit the field? You are deceiv'd, they yield who first entreat; Once one may crave for love, But more would prove This heart too little, that too great. Give me then so much love that we may burn Past all return. Who midst your beauty's flames and spirit lives, So great a light must find As to be blind To all but what their fire gives. Then give me so much love, as in one point Fix'd and conjoint, May make us equal in our flames arise, As we shall never start Until we dart Lightning upon the envious eyes. Then give me so much love that we may move Like stars of love, And glad and happy times to lovers bring; While glorious in one sphere We still appear, And keep an everlasting Spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IMITATION OF POPE: A COMPLIMENT TO THE LADIES by WILLIAM BLAKE MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS by ROBERT BURNS STANZAS TO THE PO by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ON THE SITE OF A MULBERRY-TREE PLANTED BY SHAKESPEARE ... by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE MENU by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH CITY AND VILLAGE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE ON by BERTON BRALEY |