Modern Love. Sonnet 38. Give to Imagination
Give to imagination some pure light In human form to fix it, or you shame The devils with that hideous human game:-- Imagination urging appetite! Thus fallen have earth's greatest Gogmagogs, Who dazzle us, whom we can not revere: Imagination is the charioteer That, in default of better, drives the hogs. So, therefore, my dear Lady, let me love! My soul is arrowy to the light in you. You know me that I never can renew The bond that woman broke: what would you have? 'Tis Love, or Vileness! not a choice between, Save petrifaction! What does Pity here? She killed a thing, and now it's dead, 'tis dear. Oh, when you counsel me, think what you mean!
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