LOVE, I am jealous of a worthless man Whom -- for his merits -- thou dost hold too dear: No better than myself, he lies as neat And precious to thy bosom. He may span Thy sacred waist and with thy sweet breath fan His happy cheek, and thy most willing ear Invade with words and call his love sincere And true as mine, and prove it -- if he can: -- Not that I hate him for such deeds as this -- He were a devil to adore thee less, Who wears thy favour, -- I am ill at ease Rather lest he should e'er too coldly press Thy gentle hand: -- This is my jealousy Making myself suspect but never thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FALLING ASLEEP by SIEGFRIED SASSOON FANCIES AT NAVESINK: 7 by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 6. TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQ., WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU by MARK AKENSIDE A SONNET. ON CYNTHIA SICK by PHILIP AYRES |