AH, bind my outstretched hands, I pray, With heavy fetters chaining, Or they might else on my breast lay A loved head, rest attaining. And wall up, too, this heart of mine, In closest dungeon keeping; Already through the windows shine Love's bright flames upward leaping. Oh, make me deaf! Oh, make me blind! No glimpse of joy receiving! 'T is hard for the forsaken child To bear her sore heart's grieving. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE SHADE OF PO CHU-I by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT: SPRING by THOMAS NASHE FOUR PRELUDES ON PLAYTHINGS OF THE WIND by CARL SANDBURG TO ALFRED TENNYSON, MY GRANDSON by ALFRED TENNYSON |