LOVE, though thou great & dreadfull art, With Boldnes Thou hast fir'd my Hart, Which trembles not to aim at Thee Ev'n with that Dart Thou shott'st at Me: Twas Love Thou shott'st; & that art Thou; And at thy Self thy Self I throw. I throw thy Self; but loe my Hart Still sticking is upon thy Dart. 2. PART And dost Thou shoot, dear LORD, again At him whome Thou before hadst slain? This Deaths Life kills me so, that I Must shoot again, or else I dy. I dy, unless I live to see This Hart & Life quite lost in Thee. Fair is my Aim, & high my Trust; Thy Side's wide ope, & shoot I must. Lo: Bid it welcome unto Thine, Else can my Hart no more be mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABOVE HALF MOON by JAMES GALVIN CRITIC AND POET by EMMA LAZARUS AN ODE IN IMITATION OF ALCAEUS by WILLIAM JONES THREE SONNETS WRITTEN IN MID-CHANNEL: 3 by ALFRED AUSTIN THE EVE OF BANNOCKBURN by JOHN BARBOUR CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 1. TRUE AND CHASTE LOVE by WILLIAM BASSE |