Upon this Primrose hill, Where, if Heav'n would distill A shoure of raine, each severall drop might goe To his owne primrose, and grow Manna so; And where their forme, and their infinitie Make a terrestriall Galaxie, As the small starres doe in the skie: I walke to finde a true Love; and I see That 'tis not a mere woman, that is shee, But must, or more, or lesse then woman bee. Yet know I not, which flower I wish; a sixe, or foure; For should my true-Love lesse then woman bee, She were scarce any thing; and then, should she Be more then woman, shee would get above All thought of sexe, and thinke to move My heart to study her, and not to love; Both these were monsters; Since there must reside Falshood in woman, I could more abide, She were by art, then Nature falsify'd. Live Primrose then, and thrive With thy true number five; And women, whom this flower doth represent, With this mysterious number be content; Ten is the farthest number; if halfe ten Belonge unto each woman, then Each woman may take halfe us men; Or if this will not serve their turne, Since all Numbers are odde, or even, and they fall First into this, five, women may take us all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DUNES OF INDIANA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONG FIRST BY A SHEPHERD by WILLIAM BLAKE BACCHUS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON |