LOVE hath fetters on his feet. Never speak of these. Love must use his knotted scourge, Crouched upon his knees. Let him alone. We must be still to-day. Love is at penance. Go apart and pray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 38 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE SOLSEQUIUM by ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 36. LIFE-IN-LOVE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI COME UP FROM THE FIELDS FATHER by WALT WHITMAN THE YEAR OF JUBILEE by HENRY CLAY WORK TO A GARDEN IN APRIL by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG |