WHAT then is love but mourning? What desire, but a self-burning? Till she, that hates, doth love return, Thus will I mourn, thus will I sing, 'Come away! come away, my darling!' Beauty is but a blooming, Youth in his glory entombing; Time hath a while, which none can stay: Then come away, while thus I sing, 'Come away! come away, my darling!' Summer in winter fadeth; Gloomy night heavenly light shadeth: Like to the morn, are Venus' flowers; Such are her hours: then will I sing, 'Come away! come away, my darling!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLUMBUS AND THE MAYFLOWER by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES LINES TO ROBERT ALDERSON UPON HIS DEPARTURE FROM WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO A CRITIC OF TENNYSON by AMBROSE BIERCE A WHITE NIGHT by MATHILDE BLIND THE WANDERER'S RETURN by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT EPITAPH ON MY FATHER by ROBERT BURNS |