The time will come, when thy beloved face Shall lose the spring, with which it now is clad; When thou art old, thou in some secret place Wilt sit, and think of all the wrongs I had: Then wilt thou read these my unpolish'd plaints, The chronicles of my unpitied cries; When thou art old, perhaps thy heart shall faint For shame, and let one tear forsake thy eyes; I know thou wilt, and ere thy sun expire His glorious date, thou wilt recall thy ire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POOR by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848 by MATTHEW ARNOLD A RED, RED ROSE by ROBERT BURNS COLUMBUS AND THE MAYFLOWER by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES TO HELEN (1) by EDGAR ALLAN POE |