I trust thee from my soul, O Mary dear! But, ofttimes when delight has fullest power, Hope treads too lightly for herself to hear, And Doubt is ever by until the hour: I trust thee, Mary, but till thou art mine Up from thy foot unto thy golden hair, O let me still misgive thee and repine, Uncommon doubts spring up with blessings rare! Thine eyes of purest love give surest sign, Drooping with fondness, and thy blushes tell A flitting tale of steadiest truth and zeal; Yet I will doubt - to make success divine! A tide of summer dreams with gentlest swell Will bear upon me then, and I shall love most well! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GARDEN OF LOVE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE A COUNTRY BURIAL by EMILY DICKINSON I AM NOT YOURS by SARA TEASDALE THE PRINCESS: [BUGLE] SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON PEACE GUARANTEED by MARY J. ARMSTRONG JAY A-PASS'D by WILLIAM BARNES |