What rage is this? what furor of what kind? What power, what plague, doth weary thus my mind? Within my bones to rankle is assigned What poison, pleasant sweet? Lo, see mine eyes swell with continual tears; The body still away sleepless it sears; My food nothing my fainting strength repairs, Nor doth my limbs sustain. In deep wide wound the deadly stroke doth turn To cured scar that never shall return. Go to, triumph, rejoice thy goodly turn, Thy friend thou dost oppress. Oppress thou dost, and hast of him no cure; Nor yet my plaint no pity can procure, Fierce tiger fell, hard rock without recure, Cruel rebel to love! Once may thou love, never beloved again; So love thou still and not thy love obtain; So wrathful love with spites of just disdain May threat thy cruel heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LE MARAIS DU CYNGE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER FRAGMENT OF AN 'ANTIGONE' by MATTHEW ARNOLD S. MARY MAGDALEN'S OINTMENT by JOSEPH BEAUMONT MEMORY AND HOPE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LINES TO A LADY WEEPING by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. ALL NIGHT LONG by EDWARD CARPENTER |