Do Not Love Me Yet

Do not love me yet,

For I Am still a slender moon,

A scimitar about the heart 

Too sharp to touch too soon. 

Before I’m touched 

I need to grow 

More full in golden light; 

I need to smile upon my earth 

And rule some patch of night.

I need to know what roads and fields 

Lie in my domain 

And dull my brand new ecstasies 

With sophomoric pain. 

I need the love of some blank boy 

As cold and dark as me, 

That we might grope in ignorance 

And the fear of what might be. 

And then, when I’m a silver bowl 

And know what I can hold, 

Then, then, perhaps, we could try love If you are not too old.