WHEN Delia on the plain appears, Awed by a thousand tender fears, I would approach, but dare not move; -- Tell me, my heart, if this be love. Whene'er she speaks, my ravished ear No other voice than hers can hear; No other wit but hers approve; -- Tell me, my heart, if this be love. When she is absent, I no more Delight in all that pleased before, The clearest spring, the shadiest grove; -- Tell me, my heart, if this be love. When fond of power, of beauty vain, Her nets she spread for every swain, I strove to hate, but vainly strove; -- Tell me, my heart, if this be love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CRADLE SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE BRIDAL BALLAD by EDGAR ALLAN POE CROMWELL'S SOLILOQUY OVER THE DEAD BODY OF CHARLES by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON WILLIE CHALMERS by ROBERT BURNS THE BEAU AND THE BEDLAMITE by JOHN BYROM |