Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,—no, <br /> Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair <br /> Than small white single poppies,—I can bear <br />Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though <br />From left to right, not knowing where to go, <br /> I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there <br /> Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear <br />So has it been with mist,—with moonlight so. <br /> <br />Like him who day by day unto his draught <br /> Of delicate poison adds him one drop more <br />Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten, <br />Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed <br /> Each hour more deeply than the hour before, <br />I drink—and live—what has destroyed some men.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-01-thou-art-not-lovelier-than-lilacs-mdas/
