SHALL I sue, shall I seek for grace? Shall I pray, shall I prove? Shall I strive to a heavenly joy, With an earthly love? Shall I think that a bleeding heart Or a wounded eye, Or a sigh can ascend the clouds To attain so high. Silly wretch, foresake these dreams, Of a vain desire, O bethink what high regard, Holy hopes do require Favour is as fair as things are: Treasure is not bought, Favour is not won with words, Nor the wish of a thought. Pity is a but a poor defence, For a dying heart, Ladies' eyes respect no man, In a mean desert. She is too worthy far, For a worth so base, Cruel and but just is she, In my just disgrace. Justice gives each man his own, Though my love be just, Yet will not she pity my grief, Therefore, die I must: Silly heart, then yield to die, Perish in despair, Witness yet how fain I die, When I die for the fair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GAME OF CHESS by EZRA POUND TO A CASTILIAN SONG by SARA TEASDALE AN ODE ON THE UNVEILING OF THE SHAW MEMORIA BOSTON COMMON, MAY 31, 1897 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH CHRISMUS IS A-COMIN' by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR A NOCTURNAL REVERIE by ANNE FINCH CORTEGE FOR ROSENBLOOM by WALLACE STEVENS STEEL MILL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |