I've been in love for long With what I cannot tell And will contrive a song For the intangible That has no mould or shape, From which there's no escape. It is not even a name, Yet is all constancy; Tried or untried, the same, It cannot part from me; A breath, yet as still As the established hill. It is not any thing, And yet all being is; Being, being, being, Its burden and its bliss. How can I ever prove What it is I love? This happy happy love Is sieged with crying sorrows, Crushed beneath and above Between todays and morrows; A little paradise Held in the world's vice. And there it is content And careless as a child, And in imprisonment Flourishes sweet and wild; In wrong, beyond wrong, All the world's day long. This love a moment known For what I do not know And in a moment gone Is like the happy doe That keeps its perfect laws Between the tiger's paws And vindicates its cause | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOTHER IN THE HOUSE by HERMANN HAGEDORN GENERAL WILLIAM BOOTH ENTERS INTO HEAVEN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY ON THE DEATH OF A DAUGHTER by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE COMMON A-TOOK IN by WILLIAM BARNES ALONG SHORE by HERBERT BASHFORD |