Three is not a crowd when she is the third. Surely such ironic tribute is absurd: And yet it was not said in jest, He holds her separate from the rest. He would set her on an altar of her own, Bring her pine incense and burn it in a cone: And he would share the fragrance of the pine With a fond comrade at her shrine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEHIND THE LINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WOUNDED VULTURE by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA CAELIA: SONNETS: 14 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: KING SOLOMON by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON STANZAS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE GOLDEN-ROBIN'S NEST by JOHN WHITE CHADWICK |