THOUGH love's my daily and my nightly theme, Yet of his softer joys I seldom dream; And though I press my pillow with a pray'r That ev'ry god makes Emma all his care, Yet still I ne'er recount her beauteous charms, Nor in idea clasp her in my arms. This is both adverse, cruel and unkind, When all my body, all my soul and mind, Are bound, devoted, to her vital sway, The empress of my heart, whom I obey. But what kind impulse touched on Cupid's breast Last night, I cannot tell—but when at rest, And rolling, tumbling, on this scorching wave, A mere sea-drudge, a very Guinea slave— Methought I met you, tidy, gay and neat, White with pink ribbons, in St. James's-street: You smiled, you looked most fair, and smartly said, 'Come home to tea, and bless thy Emma, Ned.' Whether this pleasing assignation proved Too great a transport to the mind that loved— I waked—with horror cursed my cruel state, That you was fled, and Africa my fate. But be this coast my curse—make love my theme, And beauteous Emma ev'ry night my dream! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE QUALITY OF COURAGE by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET SMALL COUNTRIES by JAMES GALVIN LOVE'S TENDRILS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GIFT TO SING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON BROTHERHOOD (2) by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: LILLI ALM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |