THE heart aye follows her, my eyes regret, My body grieves, my mind is on her set; She who of all perfections is the flower, I shed unceasing tears at every hour, In secret thoughts, which never can forget. All for her presence mourn, and long, and fret, And many deeply blame their cruel state; Of many lords she filled ne'er thence to part The heart. She from our longing eyes is snatched by fate, Nursing her beauty needs must grief create, But of two goods 'tis fit to share the best, And ne'er oblivion on her worth shall rest; The faithful heart, where'er she wanders, yet Aye follows her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOMB AT AKR CAAR by EZRA POUND THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE MEMORY by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE END OF THE DAY by DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT THE DAY-DREAM: THE SLEEPING PALACE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE MYSTIC TRUMPETER by WALT WHITMAN SPRING THOUGHTS by FLORENCE E. BALDWIN |