Not with thy lips [poem]

{a sonnet in blank verse}


Not with thy lips–no, love me not with them:
for words too easily may be exchanged;
nor with thy eyes, for my form will alter,
blur, be not what now it is: beauty flees.
If thou wilt love, love with thy hands and feet–
touch me gently when I hurt, lift me up
when legs shall fail me. Love with thy blind heart,
that sees what’s hidden by long years’ decay.
When I am old, with bones weary and mind
nearly spent, when speech slurs and eyes grow dim,
when neither failing hand nor foot obeys–
love me then, and such love must sure be true.
What is love, but hard choice of constancy?
Let all else change, but ever I’ll choose thee.

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2 thoughts on “Not with thy lips [poem]

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