Let perjured fair Amynta know, What for her sake I undergo; Tell her, for her how I sustain A lingering fever's wasting pain; Tell her, the torments I endure, Which only, only she can cure. But, oh! she scorns to hear, or see, The wretch that lies so low as me; Her sudden greatness turns her brain, And Strephon hopes, alas! in vain; For ne'er 'twas found (though often tried) That pity ever dwelt with pride. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: STATE'S ATTORNEY FALLAS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 4 by CONRAD AIKEN ANOTHER DARK LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MARY DONNELLY by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM CHRISTMAS IN INDIA by RUDYARD KIPLING |