Forepledged

O woman, let thy heart not cleave To any poet’s soul; For he the muse will never leave, But follow to life’s goal. Then trust him not, he is not thine, Whate’er he seems to be; Strong unseen tendrils round him twine, And keep him still from thee. His words with passion are athrill, And bear contagious fire; He knows the charmer’s perfect skill To wake the heart’s desire. But love him not, his love is woe; The genius at his side Would prove for thee a fatal foe Wert thou his wedded bride.

Collection: 
English
John Lancaster Spalding

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