I. <br /> <br /> June was not over <br /> Though past the fall, <br /> And the best of her roses <br /> Had yet to blow, <br /> When a man I know <br /> (But shall not discover, <br /> Since ears are dull, <br /> And time discloses) <br />Turned him and said with a man's true air, <br />Half sighing a smile in a yawn, as 'twere,--- <br />``If I tire of your June, will she greatly care?'' <br /> <br /> II. <br /> <br /> Well, dear, in-doors with you! <br /> True! serene deadness <br /> Tries a man's temper. <br /> What's in the blossom <br /> June wears on her bosom? <br /> Can it clear scores with you? <br /> Sweetness and redness. <br /> _Eadem semper!_ <br />Go, let me care for it greatly or slightly! <br />If June mend her bower now, your hand left unsightly <br />By plucking the roses,---my June will do rightly. <br /> <br /> III. <br /> <br /> And after, for pastime, <br /> If June be refulgent <br /> With flowers in completeness, <br /> All petals, no prickles, <br /> Delicious as trickles <br /> Of wine poured at mass-time,--- <br /> And choose One indulgent <br /> To redness and sweetness: <br />Or if, with experience of man and of spider, <br />June use my June-lightning, the strong insect-ridder, <br />And stop the fresh film-work,---why, June will consider.<br /><br />Robert Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/another-way-of-love/
