DEEM not my love is only for the bloom, The honey and the marble, that is You; 'Tis so, Beloved, common loves consume Their treasury, and vanish like the dew. Nay, but my love's a thing that's far more true; For little loves a little hour hath room, But not for us their brief and trivial doom, In a far richer soil our loving grew, From deeper wells of being it upsprings; Nor shall the wildest kiss that makes one mouth, Draining all nectar from the flowered world, Slake its divine unfathomable drouth; And, when your wings against my heart lie furled, With what a tenderness it dreams and sings! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLUMBUS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER UPON THE LATE LAMENTABLE ACCIDENT OF FIRE ... by JOHN ALLISON (1645-1683) THE VIGIL OF JOSEPH by ELSA BARKER EARLY VENEZIAN DETAIL by GORDON BOTTOMLEY A PEASANT WOMAN'S SONG by DION BOUCICAULT SNOW IN APRIL by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |