OF all the torments, all the cares, With which our lives are curst; Of all the plagues a lover bears, Sure rivals are the worst! By partners in each other kind, Afflictions easier grow; In love alone we hate to find Companions of our woe. Sylvia, for all the pangs you see Are laboring in my breast, I beg not you would favor me; -- Would you but slight the rest! How great soe'er your rigors are, With them alone I'll cope; I can endure my own despair, But not another's hope. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVERYBODY KNOWS by DAVID IGNATOW LET ME NOT LOSES MY DREAM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK (SPOKEN BY A CITIZEN OF MALTA - 1300) by EMMA LAZARUS STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 5. MARYLAND by CLARENCE MAJOR CONSECRATED GROUND; READ AT THE NEW YORK CITY HALL by EDWIN MARKHAM |