DEAREST, should I love you more If you understood me? If, when I am sick and sore, Straightway you divined wherefore, Then with herbs and healing store Of your love imbued me? Nay, I have instead, you know, In your heart an arbour Where the great winds never go That about my spirit blow. Where the sweet wild roses grow, Sweeter thrushes harbour. What a joy at last to rest Safe therein from sorrow! What a spur, when sore distressed, To at last attain your breast! When the night is loneliest What a hope of morrow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES by ROBERT BURNS THE SONG OF SHERMAN'S ARMY by CHARLES GRAHAM HALPINE A ST. HELENA LULLABY by RUDYARD KIPLING HOLYHEAD, SEPTEMBER 25, 1727 by JONATHAN SWIFT GOOD-BYE MY FANCY! by WALT WHITMAN ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA (2) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PERVERSITY by EVA K. ANGLESBURG |