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Representative Poetry Online, edition 6.0, is a web anthology of 4,800 poems in English and French by over 700 poets spanning 1400 years.  more about RPO

 

 

 

 

The Blossom

1    Little think'st thou, poor flower,
2    Whom I've watch'd six or seven days,
3And seen thy birth, and seen what every hour
4Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise,
5And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough,
6              Little think'st thou,
7That it will freeze anon, and that I shall
8To-morrow find thee fallen, or not at all.
9    Little think'st thou, poor heart,
10    That labourest yet to nestle thee,
11And think'st by hovering here to get a part
12In a forbidden or forbidding tree,
13And hopest her stiffness by long siege to bow:
14              Little think'st thou
15That thou to-morrow, ere the sun doth wake,
16Must with the sun and me a journey take.
17    But thou, which lovest to be
18    Subtle to plague thyself, wilt say,
19Alas ! if you must go, what's that to me?
20Here lies my business, and here I will stay:
21You go to friends, whose love and means present
22              Various content
23To your eyes, ears, and taste, and every part.
24If then your body go, what need your heart?
25    Well then, stay here; but know,
26    When thou hast stay'd and done thy most,
27A naked thinking heart, that makes no show,
28Is to a woman but a kind of ghost;
29How shall she know my heart; or having none,
30              Know thee for one?
31Practice may make her know some other part,
32But take my word, she doth not know a heart.
33    Meet me in London, then,
34    Twenty days hence, and thou shalt see
35Me fresher and more fat, by being with men,
36Than if I had stay'd still with her and thee.
37For God's sake, if you can, be you so too:
38              I will give you
39There to another friend, whom we shall find
40As glad to have my body as my mind.
 What thou lovest well remains,
                  the rest is dross
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
Whose world, or mine or theirs
                or is it of none?
First came the seen, then thus the palpable
    Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,
What thou lovest well is thy true heritage
What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
Ezra Pound Pisan Cantos, LXXXI
Maps