LOVE be mute, but take thyne arc, For my wild and lovelye deer, In the dawn or in the dark Passeth near. Here be foot-prints. Lo! her shape. To her heart thyne arrowe speed. Miss her not lest her escape Mock thy deed. Woe is me! 'Tis blynde thou art! O the cruel drops that draine! Far she flies nor feels thy dart: I am slaine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAWYERS KNOW TOO MUCH by CARL SANDBURG TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD. THE AUTHOR THAN FORTY by MATTHEW PRIOR A BETTER RESURRECTION by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 5 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI FAR - FAR - AWAY (FOR MUSIC) by ALFRED TENNYSON THE PERSIANS (PERSAE): SALAMIS - MESSENGER by AESCHYLUS IN AN ATELIER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AT THE GRAVE OF DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL |