Love, Though For This You Riddle Me With Darts

________________________________________________
Title:     Love, Though For This You Riddle Me With Darts
Author: Edna St Vincent Millay [More Titles by Millay]

Love, though for this you riddle me with darts,
And drag me at your chariot till I die,--
Oh, heavy prince! Oh, panderer of hearts!--
Yet hear me tell how in their throats they lie
Who shout you mighty: thick about my hair
Day in, day out, your ominous arrows purr
Who still am free, unto no querulous care
A fool, and in no temple worshiper!
I, that have bared me to your quiver's fire,
Lifted my face into its puny rain,
Do wreathe you Impotent to Evoke Desire
As you are Powerless to Elicit Pain!
(Now will the god, for blasphemy so brave,
Punish me, surely, with the shaft I crave!)

[The end]
Edna St Vincent Millay's poem: Love, Though For This You Riddle Me With Darts

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN