AYE me! that love should Nature's work accuse! Where cruel Laura still her beauty views, River, or cloudy jet, or crystal bright, Are all but servants of her self-delight. Yet her deformed thoughts she cannot see; And that's the cause she is so stern to me. Virtue and duty can no favour gain: A grief, O death! to live and love in vain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO RIVERS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON FOR G. by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE OWL AND THE PUSSY CAT by EDWARD LEAR AD ASTRA PER ASPERA! by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE NIMROD: 6 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH A.G.A. (3) by EMILY JANE BRONTE BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO THE READER by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 42 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |