XI. O HAD my folly never dared To taste the bliss which only thou Canst give, though then I had not shared What heaven can scarce to earth allow, Yet, ah! my bosom had been spared The pangs which desolate it now! Look on me—it may be the art Which lovers use,—since many feign, Few feel the madness of the heart Which drinks the blood, which dries the brain! Yet my changed cheek might tell thee part Of what this breast hath known of pain. Still to my tortured heart 'tis sweet To think the raptures I resign None other can with thee repeat;— For though thy charms be still divine, It cannot be that thou should'st meet A soul that feels their force like mine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LORD WALTER'S WIFE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TOM'S GARLAND: UPON THE UNEMPLOYED by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS WALLS by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. SPRING SONG by JEAN ANTOINE DE BAIF |