He Wonders Whether To Praise Or Blame Her
Rupert Brooke
I have peace to weigh your worth, now all is over,
But if to praise or blame you, cannot say.
For, who decries the loved, decries the lover;
Yet what man lauds the thing hes thrown away?
Be you, in truth, this dull, slight, cloudy naught,
The more fool I, so great a fool to adore;
But if youre that high goddess once I thought,
The more your godhead is, I lose the more.
Dear fool, pity the fool who thought you clever!
Dear wisdom, do not mock the fool that missed you!
Most fair,the blind has lost your face for ever!
Most foul,how could I see you while I kissed you?
So the poor love of fools and blind Ive proved you,
For, foul or lovely, twas a fool that loved you.
