English poem
V
by R. D. Blackmore (1825–1900)
"It may be that I did o'erprize, Above the Giver, that rare gift, Ungird my will for softer ties, And hold my manhood little thrift To woman's eyes.
"So far she was, so full of grace, So innocent with coy caresses, So proud to step at my own pace, So rosy through her golden tresses; And such a face!
"Suffice my sins; I'll ne'er approve A thought against my faithful Eve; Suffice my sins; I'll never believe. That it was one, to love.