IF Love and I were all alone I might forget to grieve, And for his pleasure and my own Might happier garlands weave; But you sit there, and watch us wear The mourning wreaths you wove: And while such mocking eyes you bear I am not friends with Love. Withdraw those cruel eyes, and let Me search the garden through That I may weave, ere Love be set, The wreath of Love for you; Till you, whom Love so well adorns, Its hidden thorns discover, And know at last what crown of thorns It was you gave your lover. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?' by FRANCIS BRET HARTE IN A COPY OF OMAR KHAYYAM by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 38 by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 1 by ALFRED TENNYSON INVITED GUESTS by FRANCES EKIN ALLISON OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY by JOHN BEAUMONT VILE SPRING! by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: IBN KOLTHUM by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |