YOU fear I am too frank, And wear my heart upon a sleeve? Which heart? Which sleeve? Had I as many gowns to wear As Queen Elizabeth, I'd set a heart upon them all And still have hearts to spare. "But then I often show A heart that grieves?" I know, I know; Out of the store within my breast I take one little throe, Like a button from a vest, And pin it on my arm. It hurts me less to wear it so, And—trims my sleeves. The heart is like a vain coquette And drinks publicity like dew. Scatter her portraits broadcast, then Proclaim her eyes of blue, Her yellow hair, Her cheeks' red hue, Sing many things of her Or false or true, Perhaps the jade will then consent To stay at home with you. But he, who in his jealousy All portraiture denies, Is fooled the more, And while he tries To hide mere sketch or script, His very heart looks out at us From his two eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THOUGHTS OF A TINY PIG by DAVID IGNATOW TO TIRZAH, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE TO SIR HENRY GOODYERE by BEN JONSON RAIN IN SUMMER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AT HOME by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |