BECKON to me to come With handkerchief or hand, Or finger mere or thumb; Let forecasts be but rough, Parents more bleak than bland, 'Twill be enough, Maid mine, 'Twill be enough! Two fields, a wood, a tree, Nothing now more malign Lies between you and me; But were they bysm, or bluff, Or snarling sea, one sign Would be enough, Maid mine, Would be enough! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BABY, FR. AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND by GEORGE MACDONALD THE MARCH INTO VIRGINIA by HERMAN MELVILLE SONNET: 31 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY DRAPIER'S HILL by JONATHAN SWIFT A POEM, DEDICATED TO WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY by ROBERT BLAIR HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 3 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |