If this be love, to draw a weary breath, Paint on floods, till the shore, cry to the air; With downward looks still reading on the earth The sad memorials of my love's despair; If this be love, to war against my soul, Lie down to wail, rise up to sigh and grieve me; The never-resting stone of care to roll, Still to complain my griefs, and none relieve me; If this be love, to clothe me with dark thoughts, Haunting untrodden paths to wail apart; My pleasures, horror; music, tragic notes; Tears in my eyes, and sorrow at my heart; If this be love, to live a living death, Oh, then love I, and draw this weary breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY SENSES DO NOT DECEIVE ME by MARIANNE MOORE THE AUTHOR TO HER BOOK by ANNE BRADSTREET A VIEW ACROSS THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HOW WE BURNED THE 'PHILADELPHIA' by BARRETT EASTMAN CHRISTMAS IN INDIA by RUDYARD KIPLING |