DEAR Heart, I think the young impassioned priest When first he takes from out the hidden shrine His God imprisoned in the Eucharist, And eats the bread, and drinks the dreadful wine, Feels not such awful wonder as I felt When first my smitten eyes beat full on thee, And all night long before thy feet I knelt Till thou wert wearied of Idolatry. Ah! had'st thou liked me less and loved me more, Through all those summer days of joy and rain, I had not now been sorrow's heritor, Or stood a lackey in the House of Pain. Yet, though remorse, youth's white-faced seneschal Tread on my heels with all his retinue, I am most glad I loved thee -- think of all The suns that go to make one speedwell blue! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGEL, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE ROUEN; 26 APRIL - 25 MAY 1915 by MAY WEDDERBURN CANNAN A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 31 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SONG OF THE SPANISH JEWS by GRACE AGUILAR PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 11. AL-MUTAKABBIR by EDWIN ARNOLD LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING by ROBERT BURNS |