'I have no master,' said the Blind Boy, 'My mother, "Dame Venus" they do call; Cowled in this hood she sent me begging For whate'er in pity may befall. 'Hard was her visage, me adjuring, -- "Have no fond mercy on the kind! Here be sharp arrows, bunched in quiver, Draw close ere striking -- thou art blind." 'So stand I here, my woes entreating, In this dark alley, lest the Moon Point with her sparkling my barbed armoury, Shine on my silver-laced shoon. 'Oh, sir, unkind this Dame to me-ward; Of the salt billow was her birth. . . . In your sweet charity draw nearer The saddest rogue on Earth!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PICTURES FROM APPLEDORE: 3 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL WHAT BEST I SEE; TO U.S.G. RETURN'D FROM HIS WORLD'S TOUR by WALT WHITMAN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 89. THE LIMIT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT EPITAPH ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SUSAN, COUNTESS OF MONTGOMERY by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) LEOLINE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |