GO, little book, and to the world impart The faithful image of an am'rous heart; Those who love's dear, deluding pains have known, May in my fatal stories read their own. Those who have lived from all its torments free, May find the thing they never felt, by me; Perhaps, advis'd, avoid the gilded bait, And warn'd by my example, shun my fate. While with calm joy, safe landed on the coast, I view the waves on which I once was toss'd. Love is a medley of endearments, jars, Suspicions, quarrels, reconcilements, wars; Then peace again. Oh! would it not be best To chase the fatal poison from our breast? But since so few can live from passion free, Happy the man, and only happy he, Who with such lucky stars begins his love, That his cool judgment does his choice approve. Ill-grounded passions quickly wear away; What's built upon esteem can ne'er decay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: IN ABSENCE FROM BECCHINA by CECCO ANGIOLIERI DA SIENA ALICE IN WONDERLAND: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON THE DARK-EYED GENTLEMAN by THOMAS HARDY NO LONGER COULD I DOUBT HIM TRUE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 91 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MY PRAYER by HENRY DAVID THOREAU THE PREACHER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER REMINISCENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 10 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |