Love Not

Poem By Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

LOVE not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay!
Hope’s gayest wreaths are made of earthly flowers—
Things that are made to fade and fall away
Ere they have blossom’d for a few short hours.
Love not!

Love not! the thing ye love may change:
The rosy lip may cease to smile on you,
The kindly-beaming eye grow cold and strange,
The heart still warmly beat, yet not be true.
Love not!

Love not! the thing you love may die,
May perish from the gay and gladsome earth;
The silent stars, the blue and smiling sky,
Beam o’er its grave, as once upon its birth.
Love not!

Love not! oh warning vainly said
In present hours as in the years gone by;
Love flings a halo round the dear ones’ head,
Faultless, immortal, till they change or die,
Love not!

Comments about Love Not

LOVE not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay! Hope’s gayest wreaths are made of earthly flowers— Things that are made to fade and fall away Ere they have blossom’d for a few short hours. Love not! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Oh! I have never read her before. What an abundance of talent and skill I have been missing. Though written in the 1800's there is a contemporary feel to the poem and even when you can detect its age it is still flowing smoothly along and the reader isn't jerked out of the world of the poem. Every stanza faces off on a different disappointment of love and does it so well, so poignantly, so laced with the arsenic of hurt. Extraordinary lines every where. 10 to the max! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
That takes birth must die one day. Its true for love too. Nice poem with nice flow and rhyming. Enjoyed.
Beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing and congrtulation for the poem of the day.
Love not! Truely a vain warning for yesteryears and for future. It's halo as bright and shining as ever around mankind. Very nice poem.
A satiric poem on the sterile sons of clay who wonder not at the earthly beauties! Wonderful poem!


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Other poems of NORTON

I Was Not False To Thee

I WAS not false to thee, and yet
My cheek alone looked pale;
My weary eye was dim and wet,

As When From Dreams Awaking

AS when from dreams awaking
The dim forms float away
Whose visioned smiles were making
Our darkness bright as day;

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SURELY I heard a voice-surely my name
Was breathed in tones familiar to my heart!
I listened-and the low wind stealing came,

Dedication

ONCE more, my harp! once more, although I thought
Never to wake thy silent strings again,
A wandering dream thy gentle chords have wrought,

My Heart Is Like A Withered Nut!

MY heart is like a withered nut,
Rattling within its hollow shell;
You cannot ope my breast, and put
Any thing fresh with it to dwell.

Edward

HEAVY is my trembling heart, mine own love, my dearest,
Heavy as the hearts whose love is poured in vain;