I shall hate you Like a dart of singing steel Shot through still air At even-tide. Or solemnly As pines are sober When they stand etched Against the sky. Hating you shall be a game Played with cool hands And slim fingers. Your heart will yearn For the lonely splendor Of the pine tree; While rekindled fires In my eyes Shall wound you like swift arrows. Memory will lay its hands Upon your breast And you will understand My hatred. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT CANZONET: TO HIS COY LOVE by MICHAEL DRAYTON TO MY HONOURED FRIEND DR. CHARLETON by JOHN DRYDEN THE WOOING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING by ROBERT FROST THE CHOIRMASTER'S BURIAL by THOMAS HARDY |