Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)

Romney

Nay, Romney, nay-I will not hear you say
    Those words again: "I love you, love you sweet!"
    You are profane---blasphemous. I repeat,
You are no actor for so grand a play.

You love with all your heart? Well, that may be;
    Some cups are fashioned shallow. Should I try
    To quench my thirst from one of those, when dry---
I who have had a full bowl proffered me---

A new bowl brimming with a draught divine,
    One single taste thrilled to the finger-tips?
    Think you I even care to bathe my lips
With this poor sweetened water you call wine?

And though I spilled the nectar ere 'twas quaffed,
    And broke the bowl in wanton folly, yet
    I would die of my thirst ere I would wet
My burning lips with any meaner draught.

So leave me, Romney. One who has seen a play
    Enacted by a star cannot endure
    To see it rendered by an amateur.
You know not what Love is---now go away! 

1. Behold the Earth
2. The Birth of the Orchid
3. Intermediary
4. As by Fire
5. Assistance

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1307

Последние стихотворения

To English version