LIKE to the hand that hath been us'd to play One lesson long still runs the selfsame way, And waits not what the hearers bid it strike, But doth presume by custom this will like: So run my thoughts, which are so perfect grown, So well acquainted with my passion, That now they dare prevent me with their haste, And ere I think to sigh, my sigh is past: It 's past and flown to you, for you alone Are all the object that I think upon: And did you not supply my soul with thought, For want of action it to none were brought. What though our absent arms may not enfold Real embraces, yet we firmly hold Each other in possession; thus we see The lord enjoys his land, where'er he be. If kings possess'd no more than where they sate, What were they greater than a mean estate? This makes me firmly yours, you firmly mine, That something more than bodies us combine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL - LECTURER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A MAN TO A WOMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SUNFLOWER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SONNET: GHOSTS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH BEAUTIFUL THINGS by ELLEN P. ALLERTON THE BLUNDER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE TO E.C. MARCHANT ESQ. by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: MISANTHROPOS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |