XI. O HAD my folly never dared To taste the bliss which only thou Canst give, though then I had not shared What heaven can scarce to earth allow, Yet, ah! my bosom had been spared The pangs which desolate it now! Look on me—it may be the art Which lovers use,—since many feign, Few feel the madness of the heart Which drinks the blood, which dries the brain! Yet my changed cheek might tell thee part Of what this breast hath known of pain. Still to my tortured heart 'tis sweet To think the raptures I resign None other can with thee repeat;— For though thy charms be still divine, It cannot be that thou should'st meet A soul that feels their force like mine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTERGLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SEASONS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BERENICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OUR PRAYER OF THANKS by CARL SANDBURG THE WALKING MAN OF RODIN by CARL SANDBURG JOHANNES AGRICOLA IN MEDITATION by ROBERT BROWNING |