Where art thou, Love! Lo, I am crucified Here on the bitter tree of my suspense, And my soul travails in my quivering side Wild with the passionate longing to go hence. Where would it voyage, lost, bewildered soul If from the body's warm white home it strayed: Even as the wild-fox would it find its hole, Even as the fowls of the air would it find shade? Yea, dear, with winnowing wings there would it fly To fold them on the whiteness of thy breast; And all its passion breathe into thy sigh, Fulfil the uttermost peace of perfect rest: And passing into thee as its last goal Should know no more this bitter-sweet control. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN FOR PROCESSION WITH CROSS AND BANNERS by SABINE BARING-GOULD A FAREWELL TO LONDON IN THE YEAR 1715 by ALEXANDER POPE THE AFTER WOMAN by FRANCIS THOMPSON INDEPENDENCE DAY by ROYALL TYLER LOVE'S CHANGE by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH COQUETTE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |