Ah! think'st thou, Laura, then, that wealth Should make me thus my youth, and health, And freedom and repose resign? -- Ah, no! -- I toil to gain by stealth One look, one tender glance of thine. Born where huge hills on hills are piled, In Caledonia's distant wild, Unbounded Liberty was mine: But thou upon my hopes hast smiled, And bade me be a slave of thine! Amid these gloomy haunts of gain, Of weary hours I not complain, While Hope forbids me to repine, And whispering tells me I obtain Pity from that soft heart of thine. Tho' far capricious Fortune flies, Yet Love will bless the sacrifice, And all his purer joys combine; While I my little world comprise In that fair form, and fairer soul of thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TEMERAIRE by HERMAN MELVILLE WORLD'S WORTH by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE LEPRECAUN, OR THE FAIRY SHOEMAKER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM TO LORD THURLOW by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE LOST CHRIST by THOMAS CURTIS CLARK WAR IS KIND: 24 by STEPHEN CRANE CHRISTMAS IN WARTIME: 1917: THE LAST LAP by ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE |