Behold, love, thy power how she despiseth! My great pain how little she regardeth! The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure, Broken she hath; and yet she bideth sure Right at her ease and little she dreadeth. Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sitteth; To the disdainful her life she leadeth, To me spiteful without cause or measure, Behold, love. I am in hold: if pity thee moveth, Go bend thy bow, that stony hearts breaketh, And with some stroke revenge the displeasure Of thee and him, that sorrow doth endure, And, as his lord, the lowly entreateth. Behold, love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER INTROSPECTIVE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI BETROTHED ANEW by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN SONNET: FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON DEPARTURE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE UNWISE CHOICE by ALICE CARY FACES by STANTON ARTHUR COBLENTZ |