We may not meet. I could not for pride's sake Dissemble further, and I suffer pain, A palpable distinct and physical ache, When our eyes meet by accident, and when I hear you talk in your pathetic strain Which always moved me. Only yesterday, As I was standing with a crowd of men In the long corridor, you came my way And chanced to stop, and thus by chance I heard A score of phrases uttered in that sad Half-suppliant voice which once my spirit stirred To its foundations. Yet your theme was glad— Strangers your hearers. What was in these spells To move me still? A trick, and nothing else! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN: 32. THE NATIVITY OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST by CHRISTOPHER SMART HYMN TO SCIENCE by MARK AKENSIDE MODERN MANNERS by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK THE LAST MAN: SWEET TO DIE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES IF YOU PLAY A GAME OF CHANCE by WILLIAM BLAKE |