T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Early Love
By Laurence Hope (Adela Florence Nicolson) (1865–1904)(From Last Poems, 1905) WHO says I wrong thee, my half-opened rose? | |
| Little he knows of thee or me, or love.— | |
| I am so tender of thy fragile youth | |
| Yea, in my hours of wildest ecstasy, | |
| Keeping close-bitted each careering sense. | 5 |
| Only I give mine eyes unmeasured law | |
| To feed them where they will, and their delight | |
| Was curbed at first, until thy tender shame | |
| Died in the bearing of thy first born joy. | |
| I am not cruel, my half-opened rose, | 10 |
| Though in the sunshine of my own desire | |
| I have uncurled thy petals to the light | |
| And fed the tendrils of thy dawning sense | |
| With delicate caresses, till they leave | |
| Thee tremulous with the newness of thy joy, | 15 |
| Sharing thy lover’s fire with innocent flame. | |
| Others will wrong thee, that I well foresee, | |
| Being a man, knowing my fellow men, | |
| And they who, knowing, would blame my love of thee | |
| Contentedly will see thy beauty given, | 20 |
| When the world judges thou art ripe to wed,— | |
| To the rough rites of marriage, to the pain | |
| And grievous weariness of child-getting,— | |
| This shall be right and licit in their eyes— | |
| But it would break my heart, were I alive. | 25 |
| Yea, this will be; many will doubtless share | |
| The rose whose bud has been my one delight, | |
| And I shall not be there to shield my flower. | |
| Yet, I have taught thee of the ways of men, | |
| Much I have learnt in cities and in courts, | 30 |
| Winnowed to suit thy tender brain,—is thine, | |
| Thus Life shall find thee, not all unprepared | |
| To face its callous, subtle cruelties. | |
| Still,—it will profit little; I discern | |
| Thou art of those whose love will prove their curse, | 35 |
| —Thou sayest thou lovest me, to thy delight? | |
| Nay, little one, it is not love as yet. | |
| Dear as thou art, and lovely, thou canst not love, | |
| Thy later loves shall show the truth of this. | |
| Ay, by some subtle signs I know full well | 40 |
| That thou are capable of that great love | |
| Whose glory has the light of unknown heavens, | |
| And makes hot Hell for those who harbour it. | |
| Naught I can say could save thee from thyself, | |
| Ah, were I half my age! Yet even that, | 45 |
| Had been too old for thy sweet thirteenth year, | |
| Still, thou art happy now, and glad thine eyes, | |
| When, as the lilac evening gains the sky, | |
| I lay thee, ’twixt thine own soft hair and me, | |
| Kissing thy senses into soft delight. | 50 |
| Ruffling the petals of my half-closed rose | |
| With tender touches, and perpetual care | |
| That no wild moment of mine own delight | |
| Deep in the flower’s heart,—should set the fruit. | |
| Ah, in the days to come, it well may be, | 55 |
| When thou shalt see thy beauty stained and torn | |
| By the harsh sequel of some future love, | |
| Thy thoughts shall stray to thy first lover’s grave, | |
| And thou shalt murmur, “Ay, but that was love. | |
| They were most wrong who said he did me wrong. | 60 |
| Only I was too young to understand.” | |