ALAS, it is too late! I can no more Love now than I have lov'd before: My Flora, 'tis my fate, not I; And what you call contempt is destiny. I am no monster, sure: I cannot show Two hearts; one I already owe; And I have bound myself with oaths, and vow'd Oft'ner, I fear, than Heaven hath e'er allow'd, That faces now should work no more on me, Than if they could not charm, or I not see. And shall I break them? shall I think you can Love, if I could, so foul a perjur'd man? Oh no, 'tis equally impossible that I Should love again, or you love perjury. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 9. VILLA SEBELLONI, BELLAGGIO by SARA TEASDALE FIRST-DAY THOUGHTS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 41. LOVE REQUIRES NO ENTREATIES by PHILIP AYRES TO HESTER ON THE STAIR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THERE HE GOES by BERTON BRALEY TO A PHOTOGRAPHER by BERTON BRALEY THE SINNER AT THE CROSS by PHOEBE CARY |