p o e m *

Out with you! Beguiling sentiment
Remove yourself from my aching mind
Your presence is not welcome here
Though born of my own thoughts
you are, I find

I cannot hide from what you show me,
Ideal imagery
But I can drive you hence for a while
Whilst my heart quakes
within me.

Well-contrived emotion
I do not love your piercing touch;
Although it seems that, by decree,
I’m bound to live
with such.

“How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways”[1] –
how my feeling soul
aches at that
phrase!

“How do I love thee?” –
nay, say no more;
let repose and resignation
to my mind be
restored.

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[1] From Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s “Sonnets from the Portuguese”, Sonnet 43 (1845-1847).