My Cynthia hath the waters of mine eyes, The ready handmaids on her grace attending, That never fall to ebb, nor ever dries, For to their flow she never grants an ending. The ocean never did attend more duly Upon his sov'reign's course the night's pale queen, Nor paid the impost of his waves more truly Than mine to her in truth have ever been. Yet nought the rock of that hard heart can move, Where beat these tears with zeal, and fury driveth; And yet I rather languish in her love Than I would joy the fairest she that liveth. I doubt to find such pleasure in my gaining As now I taste in compass of complaining. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DREAM OF JULIUS CAESAR by ROBERT FROST CACHE LA POUDRE by JAMES GALVIN THE GIANTS OF HISTORY by JAMES GALVIN THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL THE BOSTON ATHENAEUM by AMY LOWELL THE EXPANDED COMPOSITION by CLARENCE MAJOR |