IN my heart there is not set Rose or other flower soe'er; Through thee only, Margaret, I this hue of pallor wear. Thou art she whose conquering eyes By a gracious look, With a sudden swift surprise, All my spirit took; For thy sister, though she brook Scarce a peer for beauty, yet She has caused not my despair-- 'Tis for thee, bright Margaret, I this hue of pallor wear. Sprang this fever on the eve When my raptured heart Thee did for its queen receive; But the while did dart Love-born languor--longing smart, The swift fruit my love doth get. Hence this pallor on me fell, All because, bright Margaret, I thy roses loved too well. Ah! what magic has the power From my heart to move Pangs that do my life devour, Sprung alone from love: Of my torment nought can prove (Save requital of Love's debt) Any cure for such despair, Caused by thee, bright Margaret, For whose sake this hue I bear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STREET-CRIES: 7. A SONG OF LOVE by SIDNEY LANIER FLUSH OR FAUNUS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WHEN I'M KILLED by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES FOR DECORATION DAY: 1898-1899 by RUPERT HUGHES |