"LOVE me, or I am slain!" I cried, and meant Bitterly true each word. Nights, morns, slipped by, Moons, circling suns, yet still alive am I; But shame to me, if my best time be spent On this perverse, blind passion! Are we sent Upon a planet just to mate and die, A man no more than some pale butterfly That yields his day to nature's sole intent? Or is my life but Marguerite's ox-eyed flower, That I should stand and pluck and fling away, One after one, the petal of each hour, Like a love-dreamy girl, and only say, "Loves me," and "loves me not," and "loves me"? Nay! Let the man's mind awake to manhood's power. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO RUSSIA by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE ALLIGATOR by BEATRICE WITTE RAVENEL UNDER MY WINDOW by THOMAS WESTWOOD DISCIPLINE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH OLD SCHOOLHOUSE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |