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To Manon Comparing Her To A Falcon

VE as a falcon and as merciless,  With bright eyes watching still the world, thy prey,  I saw thee pass in thy lone majesty,  Untamed, unmated, high above the press.  The dull crowd gazed at thee.

It could not guess  The secret of thy proud aerial way,  Or read in thy mute face the soul which lay  A prisoner there in chains of tenderness.  —Lo, thou art captured.

In my hand today  I hold thee, and awhile thou deignest to be Pleased with my jesses.

I would fain beguile  My foolish heart to think thou lovest me.

See,  I dare not love thee quite.

A little while  And thou shalt sail back heavenwards.  Woe is me!

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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (17 August 1840[1] – 10 September 1922[2]), sometimes spelled Wilfred, was an English poet and writer. He and his wife, Lad…

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