THE WREATH AND THE CHAIN by THOMAS MOORE

I BRING thee, love, a golden chain,
I bring thee, too, a flowery wreath;
The gold shall never wear a stain,
The flow'rets long shall sweetly breathe!
Come, tell me which the tie shall be,
To bind thy gentle heart to me.

The Chain is of a splendid thread,
Stolen from Minerva's yellow hair,
Just when the setting sun had shed
The sober beam of evening there.
The Wreath's of brightest myrtle wove,
With brilliant tears of bliss among it,
And many a rose-leaf, cull'd by Love,
To heal his lip when bees have stung it!
Come, tell me which the tie shall be,
To bind thy gentle heart to me.

Yes, yes, I read that ready eye,
Which answers when the tongue is loth,
Thou lik'st the form of either tie,
And hold'st thy playful hands for both.
Ah! -- if there were not something wrong,
The world would see them blended oft;
The Chain would make the Wreath so strong!
The Wreath would make the Chain so soft!
Then might the gold, the flow'rets be
Sweet fetters for my love and me!

But, Fanny, so unblest they twine,
That (Heaven alone can tell the reason)
When mingled thus they cease to shine,
Or shine but for a transient season!
Whether the Chain may press too much,
Or that the Wreath is slightly braided,
Let but the gold the flow'rets touch,
And all their glow, their tints, are faded!
Sweet Fanny, what would Rapture do,
When all her blooms had lost their grace?
Might she not steal a rose or two,
From other Wreaths to fill their place?
Oh! better to be always free,
Than thus to bind my love to me.

The timid girl now hung her head,
And, as she turn'd an upward glance,
I saw a doubt its twilight spread
Along her brow's divine expanse.
Just then, the garland's dearest rose
Gave one of its seducing sighs --
Oh! who can ask how Fanny chose,
That ever look'd in Fanny's eyes!
"The Wreath, my life, the Wreath shall be
The tie to bind my soul to thee!"

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...