SIRS, if the truth must needs be told, We love not you that rail and scold; And yet, my masters, you may wait Till the Greek Calends for our hate. No spendthrifts of our hate are we; Our hate is used with husbandry. We hold our hate too choice a thing For light and careless lavishing. We cannot, dare not, make it cheap! For holy uses will we keep A thing so pure, a thing so great As Heaven's benignant gift of hate. Is there no ancient, sceptred Wrong? No torturing Power, endured too long? Yea; and for these our hatred shall Be cloistered and kept virginal. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DENIAL [OR, DENIALL] by GEORGE HERBERT THE WIND AND THE MOON by GEORGE MACDONALD WINDY NIGHTS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 3 by EDWARD TAYLOR STOKLEWATH; OR, THE CUMBRIAN VILLAGE by SUSANNA BLAMIRE WAR AUTOBIOGRAPHY; WRITTEN IN ILLNESS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |