You say I'm "getting used" to you, That where I once enthused to you, Regarding all your loveliness enchanted, I now accept it prosily And cease to paint it rosily, In brief, you say I'm taking you for granted! Your charges made so tearfully Are here admitted cheerfully. No shame or guilt my snowy brow is wreathing. For you've become a part of me, The very soul and heart of me. I'm used to you—as I am used to breathing. I'm used to you, as, steadily, I'm used to counting readily Upon my heart to keep my pulses going; I'm used to you—as flowers to The sunshine and the showers too; Or trees are used to sap that keeps them growing. I'm used to you—each way of you, The moods both sad and gay of you. I'm used to you—to everything about you; I'm used to you; that's shown to be A fact. Yes, I have grown to be So used to you I couldn't live without you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETWEEN THE LINES by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE LAST RESERVATION by WALTER LEARNED THE VICTOR AT ANTIETAM [SEPTEMBER 17, 1862] by HERMAN MELVILLE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 74 by ALFRED TENNYSON PASSAGE TO INDIA by WALT WHITMAN THE CRUSADERS' MARCH by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN IN WILTSHIRE; SUGGESTED BY POINTS OF SIMILARITY WITH THE SOMME COUNTRY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |