Love is more sweet than flowers, But sooner dying; Warmer than sunny hours, But faster flying; Softer than music's whispers Springing with day To murmur till the vespers, Then die away; More kind than friendship's greeting, But as untrue, Brighter than hope, but fleeting More swiftly too; Like breath of summer breezes Gently it sighs, But soon, alas! one ceases, The other dies; And like an inundation It leaves behind An utter desolation Of heart and mind. Who then would court Love's presence, If here below It can but be the essence Of restless woe? Returned or unrequited 'Tis still the same; The flame was never lighted, Or sinks the flame. Yet all, both fools and sages, Have felt its power, In distant lands and ages, Here, at this hour. Then what from fear and weeping Shall give me rest? Oh tell me, ye who sleeping At length are blest! In answer to my crying Sounds like incense Rose from the earth, replying, Indifference. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO JOHN KEATS, POET, AT SPRING TIME by COUNTEE CULLEN TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 2: 3. ARBOR VITAE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE FLOWER AND THORN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE BUS by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD HOW CAN I SING? by FREDERICK C. BODEN THE WHITE-FOOTED DEER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: A LETTER TO CORDELIA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |