 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
18
ARMOUR
Why lack I so in prowess to oppose?What quality enfeebles my defence?
Spirit I have, courage that courts her foes,
And I am very proud and nice of sense.
Is it, of Love himself I am equipt
For contest, and with Love I must contend,—
In treachery has he some buckle slipt,
The breastplate not set even to defend?
Though to the rush of onset I am fleet,
And guard within my heart most bitter rage,
I know I am predestined to defeat,
My helm, my spears, a ghostly equipage:
All the fair panoply about me spread
Thin as the thin gold armour of the dead.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |