O GENTLE love, do not forsake the guide Of my frail bark, on which the swelling tide Of ruthless pride Doth beat, and threaten wrack from every side. Gulfs of disdain do gape to overwhelm This boat, nigh sunk with grief, whilst at the helm Despair commands; And, round about, the shifting sands Of faithless love and false inconstancy, With rocks of cruelty, Stop up my passage to the neighbour lands. My sighs have rais'd those winds, whose fury bears My sails o'erboard, and in their place spreads fears; And from my tears This sea is sprung, where naught but death appears. A misty cloud of anger hides the light Of my fair star; and everywhere black night Usurps the place Of those bright rays which once did grace My forth-bound ship: but when it could no more Behold the vanish'd shore, In the deep flood she drown'd her beamy face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO JANE: KEEN STARS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE HIGHER PANTHEISM by ALFRED TENNYSON ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 7. ON THE USE OF POETRY by MARK AKENSIDE CALAIS SANDS by MATTHEW ARNOLD WILD ROSES by RHODA S. BARCLAY UMBRAE PUELLULARUM by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO E.C. MARCHANT ESQ. by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: A REMEMBRANCE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |