The Offering
What will you give me for this heart of mine,
No heart of gold, and yet my dearest treasure?
It has its graces, it can ache and pine,
And beat true time to your sweet voice's measure;
It bears your name, it lives but for your pleasure:
What will you give me for this heart I bring,
That holds my life, my joy, my everything?
How can I ask a price, when all my
Is that, without return, you will but take it,
Feed it with hope, or starve it to despair,
Keep it to play with, mock it, crush it, break it,
And, if your will lies there, at last forsake it?
Its epitaph shall voice its deathless pride:"She held me in her hands until I died."
Edith Nesbit
Other author posts
To A Tulip-Bulb
EP first, And let the storm and winter do their worst; Let all the garden lie Bare to the angry sky, The shed leaves shiver and die Above your bed; Let the white coverlet Of sunlit snow be set Over your sleeping head, While in the earth you sleep ...
Not Now When Skies Are Gold And Blue
And you have me and I have you, When there are roses all the way, And April days and nights of May, And life is joy the whole day long-- Not now can passion flower in song
Questions
What do the roses do, mother, Now that the summer's done They lie in the bed that is hung with And dream about the sun
Indiscretion
ED tulip-buds last night caressed The sacred ivory of her breast She met me, eager to divine What gold-heart bud of hope was mine Nor eyes nor lips were strong to part The close-curled petals round my heart; The joy I knew no monarc...