For want I will in woe I plain, Under colour of soberness; Renewing with my suit my pain, My wanhope with your steadfastness. Awake therefore of gentleness; Regard, at length, I you require, The swelting pains of my desire. Betimes who giveth willingly, Redoubled thanks aye doth deserve; And I, that sue unfeignedly In fruitless hope, alas, do sterve. How great my cause is for to swerve, And yet how steadfast is my suit, Lo, here ye see: where is the fruit? As hound that hath his keeper lost, Seek I your presence to obtain, In which my heart delighteth most, And shall delight though I be slain. You may release my band of pain; Loose then the care that makes me cry For what of help, or else I die. I die, though not incontinent, By process yet consumingly As waste of fire which doth relent, If you as wilful will deny. Wherefore cease of such cruelty, And take me wholly in your grace, Which lacketh will to change his place. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO BABY IN THE HOUSE by CLARA G. DOLLIVER THE PLANTATION CHILD'S LULLABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE FINDING OF THE LYRE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE HERITAGE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL AMERICA by JAMES MONROE WHITFIELD LAUS DEO! by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE SEAMY SIDE OF MOTLEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |