Couldst thou look into mine heart, Thou wouldst see a mansion drear; Some old haunted tower apart, Where the spectre bands appear; Sighing, gliding, ghostly forms, 'Mid the ruin shook by storms. Yet my heart, which Love doth slight, Was a palace passing fair; Which did not hold thine image bright, Thee the queen of beauty rare; Which the laughing pleasures filled, And hair Fortune's sun did gild. When shall my poor heart, alas, Pleasure's palace be again? That, sweet made, may come to pass, When thou ceasest thy disdain: For thy smiles, like beams of day, Banish spectre forms away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A VOLUME OF SCHOLASTIC PHILOSOPHY by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE IRISH SPINNING-WHEEL by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS: 1. HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING by BEN JONSON THE LEPER by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE NATIONAL ODE; INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA by BAYARD TAYLOR CAVE TALK by JOSEPH WARREN BEACH THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 62. FAREWELL TO JULIET (14) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |