How much, Azile, thou hast scorn'd my tears, And hast detain'd that which thou know'st is mine; Thy heart is his, even to whose heart he fears No hopes will come, and therefore doth repine Even to his death; for which way can he chuse When the remembrance of thy faith shall creep Before his eyes, and therein shall infuse A thousand tears, how can he choose but weep? O happy yet, wouldst thou this discontent But call to mind, and in that mind repent. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: TO HIS LUTE by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN PRAYER OF THE LOST by ALETHEA TODD ALDERSON THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER by JOANNA BAILLIE SONG by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE REQUIESCAT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY by ROBERT BURNS |