IF men were fashioned of the stone, Then might they never yield to love -- But fashioned as they are, they owne (On earth, as in the realme above,) That Beauty, in perfection stil Controls the thoughts, impels the wil. And sure 'twere vaine to stemme the tide Of passion surging in the breast -- Since fierce ambition, stubborn pryde Have each the sovereigne power confest; Which rolleth on, despite al staie, Sweeping ilk prudent shifte awaye. What though the mayden that we love May fail to meet the troth we bear -- Nor once its generous warmth approve, Nor bate one jot of our despaire -- Doth not the blind dictator say -- "Thou foolish wichte pyne on alwaie!" We cannot read the wondrous lawes That knit the soul to lovelinesse; We feel their influence, but their cause Remains a theme of mysticknesse -- We only know Love may not be O'ermastered by Wil's energie. Nor would I wish to break the dream Of troubled joy; that still is mine -- Albeit that the cheering gleam Of hope hath almost ceased to shine -- So long as Beauty light doth give, My heart must feel, its love must live! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGO RIVER; CONNECTING LAKE SEBAGO AND LONG LAKE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HOME THOUGHTS FROM EUROPE by HENRY VAN DYKE INVITATION TO A PAINTER: 2 by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM POST MORTEM by GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 24, ASKING FOR HER HEART (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |