GRANT me, I cried, some spell of art, To turn with all a lover's care, That spotless page, my Eva's heart, And write my burning wishes there. But Love, by faithless Laia taught How frail is woman's holiest vow, Look'd down, while grace attempered thought Sate serious on his baby brow. "Go! blot her album," cried the sage, "There none but bards a place may claim; But woman's heart's a worthless page, Where every fool may write his name." Until by time or fate decayed, That line and leaf shall never part; Ah! who can tell how soon shall fade The lines of love from woman's heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE NIGHTINGALE; A CONVERSATION POEM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW; IN MEMORIAM by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE CONVERGENCE OF THE TWAIN; LINES ON LOSS OF THE TITANIC by THOMAS HARDY |