God, I am weary of women and kisses! So gay is the chase but how dull is the prize. Eyes that allure me -- oh, let them betray me! Lips that breathe promise -- oh, let them tell lies! For I am cursed and cannot capture pleasure in my own pretext; and even while I kiss a shoulder look beyond it to the next. Waste not your pity, dear Lord, on the conquered; but know my despair as I see the dream fade. Since you deny me the deathless illusion, grant me one woman I cannot persuade. For I am cursed and cannot measure any day by faith and peace; and though I would be slave to loving, passion buys unsought release. Lips that meet mine are but ashes of beauty. Fire is my symbol, destroying my scheme. Where is the daughter of fire to resist me? Send me a dream that remains but a dream! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE AT [OR AFTER] CORUNNA by CHARLES WOLFE EPITAPH; INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT ERECTED BY GENTLEMAN FOR HIS LADY by JAMES BEATTIE CHEF PERNOLLET by BERTON BRALEY WINTER SONG by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN AURORA LEIGH: BOOK 2 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HOLLAND SONG FOR A DUTCH PICTURE by HILDA CONKLING |