These plaintive verse, the posts of my desire, Which haste for succor to her slow regard, Bear not report of any slender fire, Forging a grief to win a fame's reward. Nor are my passions limned for outward hue, For that no colors can depaint my sorrows; Delia herself and all the world may view Best in my face how cares hath tilled deep furrows. No bays I seek to deck my mourning brow, O clear-eyed Rector of the holy Hill; My humble accents crave the olive bough Of her mild pity and relenting will. These lines I use t' unburden mine own heart; My love affects no fame, nor 'steems of art. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER A TELEPHONE POLE by CARL SANDBURG BE TRUE [THYSELF] by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK; A TRUE STORY by ROBERT BURNS WHISPERS OF IMMORTALITY by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT GOOD-BYE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE CELLO by RICHARD WATSON GILDER A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP by THOMAS MOORE ARMY CORRESPONDENT'S LAST RIDE; FIVE FORKS, APRIL 1, 1865 by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND |