TOO late, alas! I must confess, You need not arts to move me; Such charms by nature you possess, 'Twere madness not to love ye. Then spare a heart you may surprise, And give my tongue the glory To boast, though my ungrateful eyes Betray a tender story. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN BARLEYCORN by ROBERT BURNS STANZAS TO A LADY, WITH THE POEMS OF CAMOENS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE WEST COUNTRY by ALICE CARY PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM TRUTHFUL JAMES by FRANCIS BRET HARTE CALLER HERRIN' by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE ANGEL OR WOMAN by THOMAS PARNELL |