Recall
“ LOVE me, or I am slain! ” I cried, and meant
Bitterly true each word. Nights, morns, slipped by,
Moons, circling suns, yet still alive am I;
But shame to me, if my best time be spent
Bitterly true each word. Nights, morns, slipped by,
Moons, circling suns, yet still alive am I;
But shame to me, if my best time be spent
On this perverse, blind passion ! Are we sent
Upon a planet just to mate and die,
A man no more than some pale butterfly
That yields his day to nature’s sole intent ?
Upon a planet just to mate and die,
A man no more than some pale butterfly
That yields his day to nature’s sole intent ?
Or is my life but Marguerite’s ox-eyed flower,
That I should stand and pluck and fling away.
One after one, the petal of each hour,
That I should stand and pluck and fling away.
One after one, the petal of each hour,
Like a love-dreamy girl, and only say,
“Loves me,” and “loves me not,” and “loves me”? Nay!
Let the man’s mind awake to manhood’s power.
“Loves me,” and “loves me not,” and “loves me”? Nay!
Let the man’s mind awake to manhood’s power.
Andrew Hedbrooke.