The rolling wheele, that runneth often round, The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare: And drizling drops, that often doe redound, The firmest flint doth in continuance weare: Yet cannot I, with many a dropping teare And long intreaty, soften her hard hart, That she will once vouchsafe my plaint to heare, Or looke with pitty on my payneful smart. But when I pleade, she bids me play my part, And when I weep, she sayes teares are but water, And when I sigh, she sayes I know the art, And when I waile, she turnes hir selfe to laughter. So do I weepe, and wayle, and pleade in vaine, Whiles she as steele and flint doth still remayne. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GARDEN YEAR by SARA COLERIDGE AFTER A VISIT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 63 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SONG FOR A LITTLE HOUSE by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY A SOUL'S SOLILOQUY by WENONAH STEVENS ABBOTT THE VOLCANIC ISLAND by CLIFFORD BAX |