Dido am I, the founder first of Carthage, That, as thou seest, mine own death do procure To save my faith and for no new love's rage, To flee Iarbas and keep my promise sure. But see Fortune, that would in 'nother age Mine honest will in perfect bliss assure; For while I lived, she made my day short, And now with lies my shame she doth report. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NORTH WINTER by HAYDEN CARRUTH A FLORIDA SUNDAY by SIDNEY LANIER DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY BAKER, AT NEW YORK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OCTAVES: 20 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON BEFORE THE FLOWERS OF FRIENDSHIP FADED FADED: 21 by GERTRUDE STEIN |