Alas, poor man, what hap have I That must forbear that I love best! I trow it be my destiny, Never to live in quiet rest. No wonder is though I complain, Not without cause ye may be sure: I seek for that I cannot attain, Which is my mortal displeasure. Alas, poor heart, as in this case With pensive plaint thou art opprest, Unwise thou were to desire place Whereas another is possest. Do what I can to ease thy smart, Thou wilt not lett to love her still. Hers and not mine I see thou art: Let her do by thee as she will. A carefull carcass full of pain Now hast thou left to mourn for thee. The heart once gone, the body is slain: That ever I saw her, woe is me! Mine eye, alas, was cause of this, Which her to see had never his fill; To me that sight full bitter is, In recompense of my goodwill. She that I serve all other above Hath paid my hire, as ye may see. I was unhappy, and that I prove, To love above my poor degree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APRIL'S LAMBS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY by JOHN MILTON THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by SAMUEL ROGERS THE TOOTHPICK by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM THE MAY DAY GARLAND by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |