MAY'S LOVE.

By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

You love all, you say,

Round, beneath, above me:

Find me then some way

Better than to love me,

Me, too, dearest May!

O world-kissing eyes

Which the blue heavens melt to;

I, sad, overwise,

Loathe the sweet looks dealt to

All things — men and flies.

You love all, you say:

Therefore, Dear, abate me

Just your love, I pray!

Shut your eyes and hate me —

Only me — fair May!