The thoughts are broken in my memory, Thou lovely Joy, whene'er I see thy face; When thou art near me, Love fills up the space, Often repeating, "If death irk thee, fly." My face shows my heart's colour, verily, Which, fainting, seeks for any leaning-place; Till, in the drunken terror of disgrace, The very stones seem to be shrieking, "Die!" It were a grievous sin, if one should not Strive then to comfort my bewildered mind (Though merely with a simple pitying) For the great anguish which thy scorn has wrought In the dead sight o' the eyes grown nearly blind, Which look for death as for a blessed thing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KING'S DAUGHTER by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE DOVE RIVER ANTHOLOGY, BY OWN WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: LUCY GRAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SPANISH SPRING by JEAN D. ARMSTRONG FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: LOVE IS WISER THAN AMBITION by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE AGNOSTIC by MATHILDE BLIND A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 10 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |