“They Call It Love Lies Bleeding! Rather Say”

The previous poem was originally composed in sonnet form; and it belongs, in that form, to the year 1833. It occurs in a MS. copy of the sonnets which record the Tour of 1833 to the Isle of Man and to Scotland.--ED.

They call it Love lies bleeding! rather say That in this crimson Flower Love bleeding droops, A Flower how sick in sadness! Thus it stoops With languid head unpropped from day to day From month to month, life passing not away. Even so the dying Gladiator leans On mother earth, and from his patience gleans Relics of tender thoughts, regrets that stay A moment and are gone. O fate-bowed flower! Fair as Adonis bathed in sanguine dew, Of his death-wound, that Lover’s heart was true As heaven, who pierced by scorn in some lone bower Could press thy semblance of unpitied smart Into the service of his constant heart.