WHAT though it please you light my heart with fire (Heart that is yours, your subject, your domain), With fire of Furies, not with Love's sweet pain, To waste me body and bone till life expire! The ill that others deem too cruel-dire Is sweet to me -- I will not once complain, For I love not my life, nor hold it fain Save as to love it pleases your desire. But yet, if Heaven hath made me, Lady mine, To be your victim, may it not suffice To lay my loyal service at your shrine? 'Twere better you should have my service meet Than horror of a human sacrifice Stricken and bleeding at your beauty's feet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NET TO SNARE THE MOONLIGHT by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 30 by ALFRED TENNYSON GRIEF WAS SENT THEE FOR THY GOOD by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY SONG OF THE GREEK AMAZON by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT REFLECTIONS ON THE FOREGOING ACCOUNT by JOHN BYROM THE NEW MARS by FLORENCE EARLE COATES |