O Solitude! to thy sequester'd vale I come to hide my sorrow and my tears, And to thy echoes tell the mournful tale Which scarce I trust to pitying Friendship's ears! Amidst thy wild-woods, and untrodden glades, No sounds but those of melancholy move; And the low winds that die among thy shades, Seem like soft Pity's sighs for hopeless love! And sure some story of despair and pain, In you deep copse thy murm'ring doves relate; And, hark, methinks in that long plaintive strain, Thine own sweet songstress weeps my wayward fate! Ah, Nymph! that fate assist me to endure, And bear awhile -- what Death alone can cure! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE by JOHN MILTON PERFECT WOMAN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH BEAUTIFUL EYES by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS WILD PLUM BLOSSOMS by EVA K. ANGLESBURG CHRIST THE CONSOLER by HENRY WILLIAMS BAKER A DESCRIPTION OF LONDON by JOHN BANCKS |