Maids, not to you my mind doth change; Men I defy, allure, estrange, Prostrate, make bond or free: Soft as the stream beneath the plane To you I sing my love's refrain; Between us is no thought of pain, Peril, satiety. Soon doth a lover's patience tire, But ye to manifold desire Can yield response, ye know When for long, museful days I pine, The presage at my heart divine; To you I never breathe a sign Of inward want or woe. When injuries my spirit bruise, Allaying virtue ye infuse With unobtrusive skill: And if care frets ye come to me As fresh as nymph from stream or tree, And with your soft vitality My weary bosom fill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 38. THE MORROW'S MESSAGE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE CAPTAIN; A LEGEND OF THE NAVY by ALFRED TENNYSON BACCHANALIA; OR, THE NEW AGE by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE NEW PROSERPINE by MATHILDE BLIND THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 34. REMINDING HER OF A PROMISE (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT UP TO ME by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE DAWN by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT |