Lo, here the impost of a faith unfeigning, That love hath paid, and her disdain extorted; Behold the message of my just complaining, That shows the world how much my grief imported. These tributary plaints, fraught with desire, I send those eyes, the cabinets of love, The paradise whereto my hopes aspire, From out this hell, which mine afflictions prove; Wherein I thus do live, cast down from mirth, Pensive, alone, none but despair about me; My joys abortive, perished at their birth, My cares long lived, and will not die without me. This is my state, and Delia's heart is such; I say no more, I fear I said too much. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOW CLOSE THE WINDOWS by ROBERT FROST THE SHEPHERD BOY'S SONG, FR. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by JOHN BUNYAN SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 14. OVER THE COFFIN by THOMAS HARDY THE CANDLE INDOORS by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS JAZZONIA by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON by RICHARD LOVELACE THE HERITAGE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 82. HOARDED JOY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |