ERE yet my heart was sweet Love's tomb, Love labored honey busily. I was the hive, and Love the bee, My heart the honeycomb. One very dark and chilly night Pride came beneath and held a light. The cruel vapors went through all, Sweet Love was withered in his cell: Pride took Love's sweets, and by a spell Did change them into gall; And Memory, though fed by Pride, Did wax so thin on gall, Awhile she scarcely lived at all. What marvel that she died? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KIT CARSON'S RIDE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 13 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A LEAVE-TAKING: 2 by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE DAUGHTER O' MINE by DAISY DEAN BUTLER |