I cursed thee oft; I pity now thy case, Blind-hitting boy, since she that thee and me Rules with a beck, so tyrannizeth thee, That thou must want or food, or dwelling-place. For she protests to banish thee her face -- Her face? O love, a rogue thou then shouldst be, If love learn not alone to love and see, Without desire to feed of further grace. Alas poor wag, that now a scholar art To such a school-mistress, whose lessons new Thou needs must miss, and so thou needs must smart. Yet dear, let me this pardon get of you, So long (though he from book mich to desire) Till without fuel you can make hot fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHAM TOWERS AT DA NANG by KAREN SWENSON PROMETHEUS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE MILL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MAY (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SOMETIMES WITH ONE I LOVE by WALT WHITMAN I HAVE PRAYED by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |