My whining lover, what needs all These vows of life monastical? Despairs, retirements, jealousies, And subtle sealing up of eyes? Come, come, be wise, return again, A finger burnt's as great a pain; And the same physic, selfsame art, Cures that would cure a flaming heart, Wouldst thou whiles yet the fire is in But hold it to the fire again. If you, dear sir, the plague have got, What matter is 't whether or not They let you in the same house lie, Or carry you abroad to die? He whom the plague, or love, once takes, Every room a pest-house makes. Absence were good if 'twere but sense That only held th' intelligence: Pure love alone no hurt would do. But love is love, and magic, too; Brings a mistress thousand miles, And the sleight of locks beguiles; Makes her entertain thee there, And the same time your rival here; And (oh, the devil!) that she should Say finer things now than she would; So nobly fancy doth supply What the dull sense lets fall and die. Beauty like man's old enemy's known To tempt him most when he's alone: The air of some wild o'ergrown wood Or pathless grove is the Boy's food. Return then back, and feed thine eye, Feed all thy senses, and feast high. Spare diet is the cause love lasts, For surfeits sooner kill than fasts. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANOTHER DARK LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON FAREWELL TO THE FARM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION by WALT WHITMAN A MAY NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 6. ALLAH-AS-SALAM by EDWIN ARNOLD LOVE'S WISDOM by ALFRED AUSTIN |