  FAIR Amy of the terraced House! Assist me to discover Why you, who would not hurt a mouse, Can torture so a lover? You give your coffee to the cat, You stroke the dog for coming, And all your face grows kinder at The little brown bee’s humming. But when he haunts your door—the town Marks coming and marks going— You seem to have stitched your eyelids down To that long piece of sewing! You never give a look, not you, Nor drop him a “Good-morning,” To keep his long day warm and blue, She shook her head—“The mouse and bee For crumb or flower will linger; The dog is happy at my knee, The cat purrs at my finger. “But he—to him, the least thing given Means great things at a distance: He wants my world, my sun, my heaven, Soul, body, whole existence. “They say love gives as well as takes; But I’m a simple maiden,— My mother’s first smile when she wakes I still have smiled and prayed in. “I only know my mother’s love, Which gives all and asks nothing; And this new loving sets the groove Too much the way of loathing. “Unless he gives me all in ’change, I forfeit all things by him; The risk is terrible and strange; I tremble, doubt—deny him. “His sweetest friend, or hardest foe, Best angel or worst devil, I either hate—or love him so, “Such love’s a cowslip-ball to fling, A moment’s pretty pastime; I give—all me, if anything, The first time, and the last time. “Dear neighbour of the trellised house! A man should murmur never, Though treated worse than dog or mouse, Till doted on for ever.” Elizabeth Barrett Browning. |
|
