The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley [i.e. J. B. L. Warren] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
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INFATUATION |
 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
INFATUATION
To dote upon some silent star for years,
Shrined in remotest galaxies above,
Will bring thee less remorse and fewer tears,
Than her cold scorn, harsh echo to thy love.
Shrined in remotest galaxies above,
Will bring thee less remorse and fewer tears,
Than her cold scorn, harsh echo to thy love.
Rush to embrace the rainbow still retreating,
And at the fen-fire's flicker warm thy hand;
Till marble-heart shall bring thee pleasant greeting
Go twist the sea-dunes into ropes of sand.
And at the fen-fire's flicker warm thy hand;
Till marble-heart shall bring thee pleasant greeting
Go twist the sea-dunes into ropes of sand.
Why dost thou love this lumpish block of stone?
Why gauge the pulses in that shallow breast?
Why make thy fruitless suit, with such a moan,
As turtles mourn their raven-plundered nest?
Why gauge the pulses in that shallow breast?
Why make thy fruitless suit, with such a moan,
As turtles mourn their raven-plundered nest?
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Ask pity sooner from the hail, the cloud;
And bid the bitter wind spare sail and sea;
The clay-cold maid shall waken in her shroud,
And bring her lips, ere thou bring thine, to me.
And bid the bitter wind spare sail and sea;
The clay-cold maid shall waken in her shroud,
And bring her lips, ere thou bring thine, to me.
I may persuade the tiger from his hate,
And make the viper gentler than the dove,
And train a wolf as watch-dog at my gate,
Ere thy flint heart respond one note of love.
And make the viper gentler than the dove,
And train a wolf as watch-dog at my gate,
Ere thy flint heart respond one note of love.
Make, if thou canst, the ravening vulture kind,
And call the kite to leave her carrion slain;
'Twill waste thy pains and harass less thy mind,
Than sottish love and obdurate disdain.
And call the kite to leave her carrion slain;
'Twill waste thy pains and harass less thy mind,
Than sottish love and obdurate disdain.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |