I HEARD a young lover in terrible pain, From whence if he pleas'd, he might soon be releas'd, He swore, and he vow'd again and again, He could not outlive the turmoils of his breast; But, alas, the young lover I found Knew little how cold Love would prove under ground; Why should I believe, prithee, Love, tell me why, Where my own flesh and blood must give me the lie! Let 'em rant while they will, and their destinies brave, They'll find their flames vanish on this side the grave; For though all addresses on purpose are made To be @3huddled to bed@1, -- 'tisn't meant, @3with a spade!@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HITS AND RUNS by CARL SANDBURG A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE OVERLOOKING THE RIVER STOUR by THOMAS HARDY MY MISTRESS'S BOOTS by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 35. BALACLAVA by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |