"LOVE me, or I am slain!" I cried, and meant Bitterly true each word. Nights, morns, slipped by, Moons, circling suns, yet still alive am I; But shame to me, if my best time be spent On this perverse, blind passion! Are we sent Upon a planet just to mate and die, A man no more than some pale butterfly That yields his day to nature's sole intent? Or is my life but Marguerite's ox-eyed flower, That I should stand and pluck and fling away, One after one, the petal of each hour, Like a love-dreamy girl, and only say, "Loves me," and "loves me not," and "loves me"? Nay! Let the man's mind awake to manhood's power. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARY'S LAMB by SARAH JOSEPHA BUELL HALE CHAMBER MUSIC: 36 by JAMES JOYCE MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS THE IMPROVISATORE: ALBERT AND EMILY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE FRIGHTENED PATH by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN AN ADMONITION AGAINST SWEARING, ADDRESSED TO AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY by JOHN BYROM |