When the lad for longing sighs, Mute and dull of cheer and pale, If at death's own door he lies, Maiden, you can heal his ail. Lovers' ills are all to buy: The wan look, the hollow tone, The hung head, the sunken eye, You can have them for your own. Buy them, buy them: eve and morn Lovers' ills are all to sell. Then you can lie down forlorn; But the lover will be well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESTRANGEMENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: COONEY POTTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE by ROBERT SOUTHEY EARLY DEATH AND FAME by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE DYING DRAGOMAN by MATHILDE BLIND WHY NOT? (WITH APOLOGIES TO WILLIAM KNOX) by BERTON BRALEY |