OH, but is it not hard, Dear? Mine are the nerves to quake at a mouse: If a spider drops I shrink with fear: I should die outright in a haunted house; While for you -- did the danger dared bring help -- From a lion's den I could steal his whelp, With a serpent round me, stand stock-still, Go sleep in a churchyard, -- so would will Give me the power to dare and do Valiantly -- just for you! Much amiss in the head, Dear, I toil at a language, tax my brain Attempting to draw -- the scratches here! I play, play, practise, and all in vain: But for you -- if my triumph brought you pride, I would grapple with Greek Plays till I died, Paint a portrait of you -- who can tell? Work my fingers off for your "Pretty well:" Language and painting and music too, Easily done -- for you! Strong and fierce in the heart, Dear, With -- more than a will -- what seems a power To pounce on my prey, love outbroke here In flame devouring and to devour. Such love has labored its best and worst To win me a lover; yet, last as first, I have not quickened his pulse one beat, Fixed a moment's fancy, bitter or sweet: Yet the strong fierce heart's love's labor's due, Utterly lost, was -- you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHY I WRITE NOT OF LOVE by BEN JONSON MY MOTHER by FLORENCE R. ANDREWS MODERN MOSES, OR 'MY POLICY' MAN by JAMES MADISON BELL THE WINNING OF POMONA by WILLIAM ROSE BENET DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 7. FAREWELL TO WHITE-NIGHTS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE FOUNTAIN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE MERCHANT'S TALE - EPILOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |