AH, stay! ah, turn! ah, whither would you fly, Too charming, too relentless maid? I follow not to conquer, but to die; You of the fearful are afraid. In vain I call; for she, like fleeting air, When pressed by some tempestuous wind, Flies swifter from the voice of my despair, Nor casts one pitying look behind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS; OR, THE BRITISH SOLDIER IN CHINA by FRANCIS HASTINGS CHARLES DOYLE JEANIE MORRISON by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL TO CYNTHIA GONE INTO THE COUNTRY by PHILIP AYRES TO MY TOTEM by HENRY CHARLES BEECHING THE CAUSE WON by VINCENT BOURNE |