Ah, cruell Love! must I endure Thy many scorns, and find no cure? Say, are thy medicines made to be Helps to all others, but to me? Ile leave thee, and to Pansies come; Comforts you'l afford me some: You can ease my heart, and doe What Love co'd ne'r be brought unto. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CITIES OF THE PLAIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS by ROBERT BURNS INVOCATION by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE PSALM 58 (VERSION 2) by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SONG by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE CORONADO by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |