STILL, still I finde my Heart too much below: Which makes me tremble in sad fear That something heer Has stoln upon that heart, which now Pineing in strange Ariditie Forgets, deer LOVE, to pant, & heave to Thee. 2 Do I not hate this World? Me thinks I do. For what has rotten Earth that can The Soule of Man With any lovely Motions woe? But in thy Heavn, & fairer Thee, All glorious Attractions reigning be. 3 And yet I cannot trust this Heart, which hath So oft deceiv'd unhappy Me. To Thee, to Thee I fly, to shew me by what Path From my Soules Labyrinth I may Escape into thy fair Commandments Way 4 I care not though that Path be thick besett With Shame, & Pain, & Wrongs, & Losses, And thousand Crosses; Things which will work me less regret, Than these importunate Thoughts which bait My restless Heart with fondly-sweet Deceit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GIRL IN A CAGE by CARL SANDBURG THE IYYOB TRANSLATION FROM 'A-15' by LOUIS ZUKOFSKY THE SUNFLOWER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE EXILED by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE LABORS OF HERCULES by MARIANNE MOORE MOLLY PITCHER [JUNE 28, 1778] by LAURA ELIZABETH HOWE RICHARDS THE WOUND-DRESSER by WALT WHITMAN TO - (4) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SESTET SENT TO A FRIEND WITH A VOLUME OF TENNYSON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |