E'en though her tongue may by its force Leave me as helpless as a horse, When saucy pup doth bark at him -- I'll love her better for that whim. No steady summer's love for me, But let her still uncertain be; Like spring, whose gusts, and frowns, and showers, Do grow us fresher, lovelier flowers. No substances on earth can make The joy I from her shadow take; When first I saw her face, I could Not help draw near her where she stood; I felt more joy than when a Bee Sees in a garden a Plum tree All blossoms and no leaves, and he Leaps o'er the fence immediately. I like to see her when she sits -- Not dreaming I look on -- and knits; To see her hands, with grace so light, Stabbing the wool that's red or white; With shining needles, sharp and long, That never seem to go far wrong. And that sight better pleases me Than green hills in the sun; to see The beach, what time the tide goes out, And leaves his gold spread all about. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVALS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MEMORY OF THE IRISH DEAD by JOHN KELLS INGRAM DIRGE IN WOODS by GEORGE MEREDITH A BIRTHDAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNET: 5 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE HUSBAND'S PETITION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |