I bid you, mock not Eros Lest Eros mock with you. His is a hot distemper That hath no feverfew. Love, like a child in sickness, Brilliant, languid, still, In fiery weakness lying, Accepts, and hath no will. See, in that warm dispassion Less grievance than surprise, And pitiable brightness In his poor wondering eyes. Oh, delicate heat and madness, Oh, lust unnerved and faint; Sparkling in veins and fibers, Division and attaint! I bid you, mock not Eros; He knows not doubt or shame, And, unaware of proverbs, The burnt child craves the flame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BATTLE SONG by EBENEZER ELLIOTT TO A CHILD EMBRACING HIS MOTHER by THOMAS HOOD EPITHALAMION by EDMUND SPENSER THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ANTARA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A PRAYER FOR A LITTLE HOME by FLORENCE BONE THE FAST OF TEBETH by JOSEPH BEN SAMUEL BONFILS |