The furious gun in his raging ire, When that the ball is rammed in too sore And that the flame cannot part from the fire, Cracketh in sunder, and in the air doth roar The shivered pieces. Right so doth my desire Whose flame increaseth from more to more; Which to let out I dare not look nor speak, So inward force my heart doth all to-break. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ODE TO THE FRAMERS OF THE FRAME BILL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 9 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE SHADED WATER by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS DRESSING THE BRIDE (A FRAGMENT) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DEMOCRITUS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES TO THE HORSE BLACK EAGLE WHICH I RODE AT THE BATTLE ZAMORNA by EMILY JANE BRONTE |