So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced; I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne; So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne. Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed So greet beaute, that no man may atteyne To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne. So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOHRAB AND RUSTUM by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE RIGS O' BARLEY by ROBERT BURNS SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A SOLILOQUY; OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRPING OF A GRASSHOPPER by WALTER HARTE TO HIS DYING BROTHER, MASTER WILLIAM HERRICK by ROBERT HERRICK |