From Andalusian gardens I bring the rose and rue, And leaves of subtle odour, To weave a gift for you. You'll know the reason wherefore The sad is with the sweet; My flowers may lie, as I would, A carpet for your feet! The heart -- the heart is constant; It holds its secret, Dear! But often in the night time I keep awake for fear. I have no hope to whisper, I have no prayer to send, God save you from such passion! God help you from such end! You first, you last, you false love! In dreams your lips I kiss, And thus I greet your Shadow, "Take this, and this, and this!" When dews are on the casement, And winds are in the pine, I have you close beside me -- In sleep your mouth is mine. I never see you elsewhere; You never think of me; But fired with fever for you Content I am to be. You will not turn, my Darling, Nor answer when I call; But yours are soul are body And love of mine and all! You splendid Spaniard! Listen -- My passion leaps to flame For neck and cheek and dimple, And cunning shades of shame! I tell you, I would gladly Give Hell myself to keep, To cling to, half a moment, The lips I taste in sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WORDS INTO WORDS WON'T GO by CLARENCE MAJOR COUNSEIL TO A BACHELER by MARIANNE MOORE THE REVEALER by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MODERN PARAPHRASE OF SHAKESPEARE'S SONNET 29 by GEORGE SANTAYANA |