My sweet, alas, forget me not That am your own full sure possessed; And for my part, as well ye wot, I cannot swerve from my behest. Since that my life lieth in your lot, At this my poor and just request Forget me not. Yet wot how sure that I am tried, My meaning clean, devoid of blot. Yours is the proof: ye have me tried And in me, sweet, ye found no spot. If all my wealth and health is the good, That of my life doth knit the knot, Forget me not. For yours I am and will be still Although daily ye see me not. Seek for to save that ye may spill Since of my life ye hold the shot. Then grant me this for my goodwill, Which is but right, as God it wot: Forget me not. Consider how I am your thrall To serve you both in cold and hot. My fault's for thinking naught at all, In prison strong though I should rot. Then in your ears let pity fall And, lest I perish in your lot, Forget me not. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 2 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO A POEM by JOHN KEATS TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERNE, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1742 by ALEXANDER POPE THE SHIPMAN'S TALE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH WHITE HEAD by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 98. AL-RASCHID by EDWIN ARNOLD VERSES WRITTEN IN THE LEAVES OF AN IVORY POCKET-BOOK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |