"My love is of a birth as rare As 'tis for object strange and high; It was begotten of Despair Upon Impossibility." LOVE sought me -- not the blind god infantine, But Love with lucent eyes and pensive brow; And as I mused with what adoring vow I should accost that visitant divine, He said, "Think but a thought and I am thine, Exalting thee to heavenly heights, which thou Without me canst not reach; yet ponder now, Nor rashly to my power thy life resign; For never will I grant thy full desire, But will transpierce thy heart with many a wound, And in the end will leave thee sorrowing." Then said I -- "Though thy voice be sternly tuned, Though still thou feed, and ne'er assuage, my fire, Yet I rejoice, and take thee for my King." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK FINGER by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE VILLANELLE, WITH STEVENSON'S ASSISTANCE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE KNIGHTS: DEMOS AND HIS FLATTERER by ARISTOPHANES SUBLIME ILLUSION by FLORENCE BROOKS LYNTON VERSES: 4. LYNTON TO PORLOCK (EXMOOR) by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |