 | Dryburgh Abbey and other poems |  |
39
LIKING AND DISLIKING.
Ye, who know the reason, tell me
How it is that instinct still
Prompts the heart to like—or like not—
At its own capricious will?
Tell me by what hidden magic
Our impressions first are led
Into liking—or disliking—
Oft before a word is said?
How it is that instinct still
Prompts the heart to like—or like not—
At its own capricious will?
Tell me by what hidden magic
Our impressions first are led
Into liking—or disliking—
Oft before a word is said?
Why should smiles sometimes repel us,—
Bright eyes turn our feelings cold?
What is that which comes to tell us
All that glitters is not gold?
Oh! no feature, plain or striking,
But a power we cannot shun,
Prompts our liking—or disliking—
Ere acquaintance hath begun!
Bright eyes turn our feelings cold?
What is that which comes to tell us
All that glitters is not gold?
Oh! no feature, plain or striking,
But a power we cannot shun,
Prompts our liking—or disliking—
Ere acquaintance hath begun!
Is it instinct,—or some spirit
Which protects us, and controls
Every impulse we inherit
By some sympathy of souls?
Is it instinct,—is it nature,—
Or some freak or fault of chance,
Which our liking—or disliking—
Limits to a single glance?
Which protects us, and controls
Every impulse we inherit
By some sympathy of souls?
Is it instinct,—is it nature,—
Or some freak or fault of chance,
Which our liking—or disliking—
Limits to a single glance?
40
Like presentiment of danger,
Though the sky no shadow flings,
Or that inner sense, still stranger,
Of unseen, unutter'd things!
Is it—oh! can no one tell me,—
No one show sufficient cause,
Why our likings—and dislikings—
Have their own instinctive laws?
Though the sky no shadow flings,
Or that inner sense, still stranger,
Of unseen, unutter'd things!
Is it—oh! can no one tell me,—
No one show sufficient cause,
Why our likings—and dislikings—
Have their own instinctive laws?
| Dryburgh Abbey and other poems | |