DEAREST, should I love you more If you understood me? If, when I am sick and sore, Straightway you divined wherefore, Then with herbs and healing store Of your love imbued me? Nay, I have instead, you know, In your heart an arbour Where the great winds never go That about my spirit blow. Where the sweet wild roses grow, Sweeter thrushes harbour. What a joy at last to rest Safe therein from sorrow! What a spur, when sore distressed, To at last attain your breast! When the night is loneliest What a hope of morrow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 12 by EZRA POUND THE OLD SHIPS by JAMES ELROY FLECKER FRIENDS BEYOND by THOMAS HARDY DENIAL [OR, DENIALL] by GEORGE HERBERT THE SWAMP ANGEL by HERMAN MELVILLE MY LITTLE CAPE COD MAIDEN by KATHERINE FINNIGAN ANDERSON STANZAS SELECTED FROM THE PAINS OR MEMORY; A FRAGMENT by BERNARD BARTON |