FOLLOW your saint, follow with accents sweet! Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet! There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, pity move, And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love: But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, Then burst with sighing in her sight, and ne'er return again! All that I sung still to her praise did tend; Still she was first, still she my songs did end; Yet she my love and music both doth fly, The music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy: Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight! It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her delight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUATRAIN: OMAR KHAYYAM (AFTER FITZGERALD) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PSALM 15. DOMINE QUIS HABITABIT by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE RECOGNITION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 18 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE BRIDEGROOM TO HIS BRIDE by MARY ANN BROWNE CHRISTMAS EVE by ROBERT BROWNING LETTER TO AN AVIATOR IN FRANCE by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING IN A LETTER TO C.P., ESQ., IN IMITATION OF SHAKESPEARE by WILLIAM COWPER |