COME to me in any shape! As a victor crown'd with vine, In thy curls the clustering grape, -- Or a vanquished slave: 'Tis thy coming that I crave, And thy folding serpent twine, Close and dumb; Ne'er from that would I escape; Come to me in any shape! Only come! Only come, and in my breast Hide thy shame or show thy pride; In my bosom be caressed, Never more to part; Come into my yearning heart; I, the serpent, golden-eyed, Twine round thee; Twine thee with no venomed test; Absence makes the venomed nest; Come to me! Come to me, my lover, come! Violets on the tender stem Die and wither in their bloom, Under dewy grass; Come, my lover, or, alas! I shall die, shall die like them, Frail and lone; Come to me, my lover, come! Let thy bosom be my tomb: Come, my own! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINTER EVENING by ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN MEMORY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PALINODE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LITTLE OLD WOMEN by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE RECALLED by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. SISTER HEART by EDWARD CARPENTER |