WHEN I entreat, either thou wilt not hear, Or else my suit arriving at thy ear Cools and dies there. A strange extremity! To freeze i' th' Sun, and in the shade to fry. Whilst all my blasted hopes decline so soon, 'Tis evening with me, though at high noon. For pity to thyself, if not to me, Think time will ravish, what I lose, from thee. If my scorch'd heart wither through thy delay, Thy beauty withers too. And swift decay Arrests thy youth. So thou whilst I am slighted Wilt be too soon with age or sorrow nighted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I AM THE PEOPLE, THE MOB by CARL SANDBURG I SHALL LIVE TO BE OLD by SARA TEASDALE THE VIOLINIST by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON THE ORGANIST by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 9. JURIS DOCTOR ... BOTTINIUS by ROBERT BROWNING |