I do not even scorn your lovers- They clasped an image of you, a cloud, Not the whole life of you that's mine. I do not even pity my mistresses- Such a poor shadow of desire Their half-warm passion drew from me. You are a delicate Arab mare For whom there is but one rider; I am a sea that takes joyfully Only one straight ship upon my breast. Like a dark princess whose beauty Many have sung, you wear me, The one jewel that is warmed by your breast. As a soldier weary of fighting Turns for peace to some golden city, So do I turn to you, beloved. The scarlet that stains your lips and breast-points- Let it be my blood that dyes them, My very blood so gladly yielded. Let it be your flesh and only your flesh That fashions for me a child Whose beauty shall be only less than yours. Everlasting as the sea round the islands I cry at your door for love; Everlasting as the unchangeable sea I cry the infinite for space to love you. Earth of the earth, body of the earth, Flesh of our mother, life of all things, A flower, a bird, a rock, a tree, Thus I love you, sister and lover, Would that we had one mother indeed That we might be bound closer by shame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DREAMER by SHAEMAS O'SHEEL POPULARITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH GEORGE LEVISON OR, THE SCHOOLFELLOWS by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM GLADNESS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH IN STRATIS VIARUM by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH SONNETS OF LAURA: 2. THE VEIL by ELIZABETH COBBOLD |