'Twas thee, Azile, of whose loves I sang, 'Tween thee and me among the gentle Gothes, Something it was when all the valleys rang Too true, the breach of thy beplighted oaths. I little thought my willing warbling quill, With her shrill notes, did miss to sing the truth: But now I find through too dear-gotten skill, Thou art despiser of my blooming youth; What there I said, how much thy soul relied Upon thy faith, these poems say I lied. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIGHTING RACE [FEBRUARY 16, 1898] by JOSEPH IGNATIUS CONSTANTINE CLARKE SPRING SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO ANTHEA [WHO MAY COMMAND HIM ANYTHING] by ROBERT HERRICK EXTRACTS FROM AN OPERA: 2. DAISY'S SONG by JOHN KEATS SONNET WRITTEN IN DISGUST OF VULGAR SUPERSTITION by JOHN KEATS THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE; ELECTION BALLAD by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY |