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Poem by Dinah Maria Craik Plighted Mine to the core of the heart, my beauty! Mine, all mine, and for love, not duty: Love given willingly, full and free, Love for love's sake, - as mine to thee. Duty's a slave that keeps the keys, But Love, the master, goes in and out Of his goodly chambers with song and shout, Just as he please, - just as he please. Mine, from the dear head's crown, brown-golden, To the silken foot that's scarce beholden; Give to a few friends hand or smile, Like a generous lady, now and awhile, But the sanctuary heart, that none dare win, Keep holiest of holiest evermore; The crowd in the aisles may watch the door, The high-priest only enters in. Mine, my own, without doubts or terrors, With all thy goodnesses, all thy errors, Unto me and to me alone revealed, "A spring shut up, a fountain sealed." Many may praise thee, - praise mine as thine, Many may love thee, - I'll love them too; But thy heart of hearts, pure, faithful, and true, Must be mine, mine wholly, and only mine. Mine! - God, I thank Thee that Thou hast given Something all mine on this side heaven: Something as much myself to be As this my soul which I lift to Thee: Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, Life of my life, whom Thou dost make Two to the world for the world's work's sake, - But each unto each, as in Thy sight, one. Dinah Maria Craik Dinah Maria Craik's other poems: 1182 Views |
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