The man who feels the dear disease, Forgets himself, neglects to please, The crowd avoids, and seeks the groves, And much he thinks when much he loves; Press'd with alternate hope and fear, Sighs in her absence, sighs when near. The gay, the fond, the fair, the young, Those trifles pass unseen along, To him a pert insipid throng. But most he shuns the vain coquette; Contemns her false affected wit: The minstrel's sound, the flowing bowl, Oppress and hurt the amorous soul. 'Tis solitude alone can please, And give some intervals of ease. He feeds the soft distemper there, And fondly courts the distant fair; To balls the silent shade prefers, And hates all other charms but hers. When thus your absent swain can do, Molly, you may believe him true. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FORCE OF LOVE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES OF THE DAY ESTIVALL by ALEXANDER HUME LOST AND FOUND by GEORGE MACDONALD ODE TO THE WEST WIND by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY SINCERE FLATTERY OF R.B. by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN TO ONE WHO ASKED by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE DIVISION OF POLAND by EDWIN ARNOLD |