LOVE and pity are pleading with me this hour. What is this voice that stays me forbidding to yield, Offering beauty, love, and immortal power, Æons away in some far-off heavenly field? Though I obey thee, Immortal, my heart is sore. Though love be withdrawn for love it bitterly grieves: Pity withheld in the breast makes sorrow more. Oh that the heart could feel what the mind believes! Cease, O love, thy fiery and gentle pleading. Soft is thy grief, but in tempest through me it rolls. Dream 'st thou not whither the path is leading Where the Dark Immortal would shepherd our weeping souls? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INFANT SORROW, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE A MEDITATION ON RHODE ISLAND COAL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY by ALEXANDER POPE SONNET: 106 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE SODA-WATER SLOT-MACHINE by BELLA AKHMADULINA MYRRHA by VITTORIO AMEDEO ALFIERI EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 26. PLATONIC LOVE by PHILIP AYRES IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: A DREAM OF GOOD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. TO WILLIAM, EARL OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |