No more, blind god! for see, my heart Is made thy quiver, where remains No void place for another dart; And, alas! that conquest gains Small praise, that only brings away A tame and unresisting prey. Behold a nobler foe, all arm'd, Defies thy weak artillery, That hath thy bow and quiver charm'd, A rebel beauty, conquering thee: If thou dar'st equal combat try, Wound her, for 'tis for her I die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROMANCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DAT GAL O' MINE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE AWAKENING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM FIRST FRUIT by ISAAC ROSENBERG |