So oft as homeward I from her depart, I go lyke one that, having lost the field, Is prisoner led away with heavy hart, Despoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield. So doe I now my selfe a prisoner yeeld To sorrow and to solitary paine: From presence of my dearest deare exylde, Longwhile alone in languor to remaine. There let no thought of joy, or pleasure vaine, Dare to approch, that may my solace breed; But sudden dumps, and drery sad disdayne Of all worlds gladnesse, more my torment feed. So I her absens will my penaunce make, That of her presens I my meed may take. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARIA WENTWORTH by THOMAS CAREW THE LOST SHEEP by ELIZABETH CECILIA CLEPHANE THE SOULS OF THE SLAIN by THOMAS HARDY THE RUNES ON WELAND'S SWORD by RUDYARD KIPLING GARDEN DAYS: 6. AUTUMN FIRES by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IDYLLS OF THE KING: DEDICATION by ALFRED TENNYSON |