AS Love will carve dear names upon a tree, Symbol of gravure on his heart to be, So thought I thine with loving text to set In the growth and substance of my canzonet; But, writing it, my tears begin to fall -- This wild-rose stem for thy large name's too small! Nay, still my trembling hands are fain, are fain Cut the good letters though they lap again; Perchance such folk as mark the blur and stain Will say, It was the beating of the rain; Or, haply these o'er-woundings of the stem May loose some little balm, to plead for them. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE MEMORY OF BEN JONSON by JOHN CLEVELAND GOLD-OF-OPHIR ROSES by GRACE ATHERTON DENNEN THE PHANTOM KISS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE WALKER OF THE SNOW by CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 47 by PHILIP SIDNEY GRAY MOOD by MARJORIE AKERMAN B. DUNCAN WEIR by ALEXANDER ANDERSON |