LOVE be mute, but take thyne arc, For my wild and lovelye deer, In the dawn or in the dark Passeth near. Here be foot-prints. Lo! her shape. To her heart thyne arrowe speed. Miss her not lest her escape Mock thy deed. Woe is me! 'Tis blynde thou art! O the cruel drops that draine! Far she flies nor feels thy dart: I am slaine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE by EDWIN MARKHAM THE MOWER'S SONG by ANDREW MARVELL A VISION UPON [THIS CONCEIT] OF THE FAERIE QUEENE (2) by WALTER RALEIGH VAN ELSEN by FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT AN INVOCATION by ISIDORE G. ASCHER THE MODERN TIPPLING PHILOSOPHERS by JAMES HAY BEATTIE PSALM 8. DOMINE DOMINUS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: EL HARITH by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |