O absent presence, Stella is not here; False flattering hope, that with so fair a face Bare me in hand, that in this orphan place Stella, I say my Stella, should appear. What say'st thou now? Where is that dainty cheer Thou told'st mine eyes should help their famished case? But thou art gone, now that self-felt disgrace Doth make me most to wish thy comfort near. But here I do store of fair ladies meet, Who may with charm of conversation sweet Make in my heavy mould new thoughts to grow: Sure they prevail as much with me, as he That bade his friend, but then new maimed, to be Merry with him, and not think of his woe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GRINDSTONE by ROBERT FROST KEEP A-PLUGGING AWAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LESSER EPISTLES: TO A YOUNG LADY WITH SOME LAMPREYS by JOHN GAY FEBRUARY IN ROME by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE MEMORY OF THE IRISH DEAD by JOHN KELLS INGRAM HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL PASA THALASSA THALASSA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |