Alone musing, Remembering The woeful life that I do lead, Then sore sighing, I lie crying As one for pain near dead. The unkindness Of my mistress In great distress hath me brought. Yet disdaineth she To take pity And setteth my heart right naught. Who would have thought She would have wrought Such sorrow unto my heart, Seeing that I Endeavoured me From her never to depart? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS DEAD BODY by SIEGFRIED SASSOON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 67 by ALFRED TENNYSON HAWTHORNE by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT BATUSCHKA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH INTROSPECTION by GEORGE ARNOLD SORROWS AND CONSOLATIONS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD INAUGURATION SONNET: WILLIAM JEWETT TUCKER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE TO W.A. AND H.H. ON THEIR DEPARTURE TO EUROPE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE |