LOVE'S herald is not speech -- His fear-fraught tongue is mute -- His presence is bewrayed By blushes deep that shoot Athwart the conscious brow, And mantle on the cheek, Then fleet for tints of snow Which soft confusion speak; Thus red and white have place By turns on true love's face. Love vaunteth not his worth In gaudy, glozing phrase, His home is not in breast Where thought of worlding stays; In modest loyaltie His fountain doth abide; In bosom greatly good The lucid pulses tide That ebb and flow there ever, Till soul and body sever. Trust not the ready lip Whence flows the fulsome song -- True love aye gently hymns, False love chaunts loud and long. Young Beauty, Cherish well The bashful, anxious eye, The lip that may not move, The breast that stills the sigh -- A recreant to thee Their lord will never be! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEN AND NOW by CECIL DAY LEWIS WORDS INTO WORDS WON'T GO by CLARENCE MAJOR BERTHA IN THE LANE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING PARTED by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BURNHAM-BEECHES by HENRY LUTTRELL LOCKSLEY HALL by ALFRED TENNYSON |