Yet sighs, dear sighs, indeed true friends you are, That do not leave your least friend at the worst; But as you with my breast I oft have nursed, So grateful now you wait upon my care. Faint coward joy no longer tarry dare, Seeing hope yield when this woe strake him first; Delight protests he is not for the accursed, Though oft himself my mate-in-arms he sware. Nay, sorrow comes with such main rage, that he Kills his own children, tears, finding that they By love were made apt to consort with me. Only true sighs, you do not go away: Thank may you have for such a thankful part, Thank-worthiest yet, when you shall break my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONRAD AT TWILIGHT by JOHN CROWE RANSOM THE BALLAD OF LOVELY LADYES OF LONG AGOE by FRANCOIS VILLON SONNET OF HIS LADY IN HEAVEN by JACOPO DA LENTINO HORATIUS [AT THE BRIDGE], FR. LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 12 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE POWER OF WOMEN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |