O THINK not, sweet, to what wild end
Thy love soe'er is bent,
Thou canst that breast of sighs commend
To more relinquishment.
To fuller licence canst commit
Than knew'st thou this long while,
Since once the yielding heart of it
Was flagrant in a smile,
Since once, when truest modesty
Itself no more mistook,
Thy spirit's passion, shaken free.
So triumphed in one look,
That never can surrender new
More openness imply,
And all thou canst for ever do
Shall that but ratify.
Poems of Conformity (OUP 1917)