No more, blind god! for see, my heart Is made thy quiver, where remains No void place for another dart; And, alas! that conquest gains Small praise, that only brings away A tame and unresisting prey. Behold a nobler foe, all arm'd, Defies thy weak artillery, That hath thy bow and quiver charm'd, A rebel beauty, conquering thee: If thou dar'st equal combat try, Wound her, for 'tis for her I die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LEEDLE YAWCOB STRAUSS by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS A DIVINE IMAGE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE VANQUISHED; ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL GRANT by FRANCIS FISHER BROWNE THE VILLAIN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE BATTLEFIELD by EMILY DICKINSON THE SPIRES OF OXFORD by WINIFRED MARY LETTS THE MAN WITH THE HOE by EDWIN MARKHAM |