Now has love wrought a fever in my veins And when I would be here, I would be there, And would I rest, no rest for me remains. This gown, or that, I know not what to wear. What, must I to love's tyranny confess? A pother on it all! I will not thus That love, who was my erstwhile friend, no less, Should me besiege with senses amorous. For this offense, I will inflict, I swear, Such wounds as he cannot in truth deny! I'll feign indifference, or he forbear, And weave the while a potent spell thereby Shall him disarm; then taken unaware, With his own weapons, will I love ensnare. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRESIDE by NATHANIEL COTTON CORONATION by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON THE SURRENDER AT APPOMATTOX [APRIL 9, 1865] by HERMAN MELVILLE A SEA-SPELL (FOR A PICTURE) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S BURIAL HYMN by WALT WHITMAN |