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Wilfred Scawen Blunt

To Manon, on his Fortune in loving Her

I DID not choose thee, dearest. It was Love
That made the choice, not I. Mine eyes were blind
As a rude shepherd's who to some lone grove
His offering brings and cares not at what shrine
He bends his knee. The gifts alone were mine;
The rest was Love's. He took me by the hand,
And fired the sacrifice, and poured the wine,
And spoke the words I might not understand.
    I was unwise in all but the dear chance
Which was my fortune, and the blind desire
Which led my foolish steps to Love's abode,
And youth's sublime unreason'd prescience
Which raised an altar and inscribed in fire
Its dedication To the Unknown God.

 
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About the poet
Wilfred Scawen Blunt
 
By the same poet
Song
The Desolate City
With Esther
St. Valentine's Day
Gibraltar
Written at Florence
The Two Highwaymen
 
Related books
Wilfred Scawen Blunt at amazon.com


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