O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might! O sun, that from thy noonday height Shudderest when I strain my sight, Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light, Lo, falling from my constant mind, Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind, I whirl like leaves in roaring wind. Last night I wasted hateful hours Below the city's eastern towers; I thirsted for the brooks, the showers; I roll'd among the tender flowers; I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth; I look'd athwart the burning drouth Of that long desert to the south. Last night, when some one spoke his name, From my swift blood that went and came A thousand little shafts of flame Were shiver'd in my narrow frame. O Love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul thro' My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. Before he mounts the hill, I know He cometh quickly; from below Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow Before him, striking on my brow. In my dry brain my spirit soon, Down-deepening from swoon to swoon, Faints like a dazzled morning moon. The wind sounds like a silver wire, And from beyond the noon a fire Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher The skies stoop down in their desire; And, isled in sudden seas of light, My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight, Bursts into blossom in his sight. My whole soul waiting silently, All naked in a sultry sky, Droops blinded with his shining eye; I will possess him or will die. I will grow round him in his place, Grow, live, die looking on his face, Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAWYERS KNOW TOO MUCH by CARL SANDBURG LAST LINES OF THOMAS INGOLDSBY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM MAY AND DEATH by ROBERT BROWNING VOLUNTARIES by RALPH WALDO EMERSON TO A BIRD IN THE CITY by MATTHIAS BARR FOR STURDY FEET by A. DOROTHEA BATES THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE ALOE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |