Personal Injury Law

Wednesday Evening Browning

By Uncle Pavian

YOU'LL love me yet!--and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing:
June rear'd that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.

I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike,
And yield--what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.

You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave 's one violet:
Your look?--that pays a thousand pains.
What 's death? You'll love me yet!

Full post as published by West Neanderthal Drive on April 30, 2008 (boomark / email).