MOTHER, I cannot mind my wheel; My fingers ache, my lips are dry: Oh! if you felt the pain I feel! But oh! who over felt as I! No longer could I doubt him true... All other men may use deceit; He always said my eyes were blue, And often swore my lips were sweet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: SPINNING SONG by EDITH SITWELL GUILIELMUS REX by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ON THE RHINE by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES THE SHRUBBERY, WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION by WILLIAM COWPER PICTURES FROM APPLEDORE: 5 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL A SONG OF FREEDOM by ALICE MILLIGAN CLOUDS by EDUARD VON BAUERNFELD FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: HUMAN LIFE - ITS VALUE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |