Love's a thing, (as I do heare) Ever full of pensive feare; Rather then to which I'le fall, Trust me, I'le not like at all: If to love I should entend, Let my haire then stand an end: And that terrour likewise prove, Fatall to me in my love. But if horrour cannot slake Flames, which wo'd an entrance make; Then the next thing I desire, Is to love, and live i'th fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE SHADOWS: 20 by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) DOWN THE RIVER by BARCROFT HENRY BOAKE PIRATE TREASURE by BERTON BRALEY TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. EARLY MORNING by EDWARD CARPENTER EPITAPH ON AN INFANT (2) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |