Nay, in a poet put no trust, Nor call him thyne, my little maid; Fear thou his anger, if thou must, But of his love be more afraid. Take him not to thee, nor unite Consenting marriage of two souls; Let not thy virgin veil, so light, Harbour this handful of live coals. His wit runs like an element, Yet o'''ver himself he has no sway; His wreath, tho''' not by intent, Will eat the curls of youth away. The idle multitude mistake Who speak him fair, and then reproach: He has no venom like the snake, But like a bee, lays hearts abroach. Fear not that with his hand the poet Will tear the sanctuary shrouds; - He'''ll strangle thee before he know it, And spirit thee beyond the clouds. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BURIAL OF MOSES by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER FABLES: 1ST SER. 5. THE WILD BOAR AND THE RAM by JOHN GAY ECHOES: 4. INVICTUS by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY PRAYER OF A SOLDIER IN FRANCE by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER TO-NIGHT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON IN PROGRESS by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI A TEAMSTER'S FAREWELL by CARL SANDBURG |