O NEVER to be moved, O beauty unrelenting! Hard heart, too dearly loved! Fond love, too late repenting! Why did I dream of too much bliss? Deceitful hope was cause of this. O hear me speak this, and no more, 'Live you in joy, while I my woes deplore!' All comforts despaired Distaste your bitter scorning; Great sorrows unrepaired Admit no mean in mourning: Die, wretch, since hope from thee is fled. He that must die, is better dead. O dear delight yet, ere I die, Some pity show, though you relief deny! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A YOUNG BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS IN A MYRTLE SHADE by WILLIAM BLAKE A LEGEND OF THE NORTHLAND by PHOEBE CARY IN DISPRAISE OF THE MOON by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE ON THE DEATH OF MR. PURCELL by JOHN DRYDEN TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE SECOND DAY: LADY WENTWORTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SIT DOWN SAD SOUL by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER ON THE GREAT ENCOURAGEMENT GIVEN BY ENGLISH NOBILITY & GENTRY by WILLIAM BLAKE |