O LET me be in loving nice,
Dainty, fine, and o-er precise,
That I may charm my charmà d dear
As tho- I felt a secret fear
To lose what never can be lost,-
Her faith who still delights me most!
So shall I be more than true,
Ever in my ageing new.
So dull habit shall not be
Wrongly call-d Fidelity.
Punctilio
Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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Poem topics: faith, fear, lost, never, dear, true, secret, charm, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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