1. I Chose the flouri'shing'st Tree in all the Parke, With freshest Boughs, and fairest head; I cut my Love into his gentle Barke, And in three dayes, behold 'tis dead! My very written Flames so vi'olent be, They've burnt and wither'd up the Tree. 2. How should I live my selfe, whose heart is found Deeply graven every where, With the large History of many a wound, Larger then thy Trunke can beare? With art as strange, as Homer in the Nut, Love in my Heart has Volumes put. 3. What a few words from thy rich stock did take The Leaves and Beauties all? As a strong Poison with one drop does make The Nailes and Haires to fall: Love (I see now) a kind of Witchcraft is, Or Characters could nere doe this. 4. Pardon, yee Birds and Nymphes, who lov'd this Shade; And pardon mee, thou gentle Tree; I thought her name would thee have happy made, And blessed Omens hop'd from Thee; Notes of my Love, thrive here (said I) and grow; And with yee let my Love doe so. 5. Alas, poore Youth, thy love will never thrive! This blasted Tree predestines it; Goe tie the dismall Knot (why shouldst thou live?) And by the Lines thou there hast writ Deform'dly hanging, the sad Picture be To that unlucky Historie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ERASMUS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON IN SAN MARCO, VENEZIA by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE MILKMAID'S SONG by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL TO AN INSECT by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE LOWEST PLACE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI DEATH AND CUPID; AN ALLEGORY by JOHN GODFREY SAXE GATHERING SONG OF DONALD [OR, DONUI DHU] THE BLACK by WALTER SCOTT |