THOU'RT wretched, yes! -- but no complaint I'll make; -- My love, we both, alas, must wretched be! Till death our poor afflicted hearts doth break, My love, we both, alas, must wretched be! I see the scorn that round thy mouth doth play, I see thine eyes that glance so haughtily, I see the pride that doth thy bosom sway, -- Yet thou art wretched, wretched e'en as I. Grief lurks around thy mouth, unseen indeed, With hidden tears thine eyes can scarcely see, And secret wounds on thy proud bosom feed -- My love, we both, alas, must wretched be! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH FOR SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, AT ST. PAUL'S WITHOUT A MONUMENT ... by EDWARD HERBERT BRIEF LIFE by KATHARINE LEE BATES A WAY TO A HAPPY NEW YEAR by ROBERT BREWSTER BEATTIE ICH DIEN by SUSIE MONTGOMERY BEST TO A SPIRIT (1) by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: EROS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |