WITH sweetheart on arm, all my comrades with joy Beneath the linden trees move; But I, alas, poor desolate boy, In utter solitude rove Mine eye grows dim, my heart is oppress'd, When happy lovers I see; For a sweetheart by me is also possess'd, But, alas, far distant is she. I have borne it for years, with a heart fit to break, But no longer can bear with the pain; So pack up my bundle, my pilgrim's staff take, And start on my travels again. And onward I go for hundreds of miles, Till I come to a city renown'd; A noble river beneath it smiles, With three stately towers 'tis crown'd. And now my late sorrows no longer annoy, Made happy at last is my love; For there, with my sweetheart on arm, I with joy Can beneath the sweet linden trees rove. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PHILLIS'S AGE by MATTHEW PRIOR SONNET PREFIXED TO 'NENNIO, OR A TREATISE OF NOBILITY' by EDMUND SPENSER DO THOU LOVE, TOO! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE STORY OF FIORDISPINA, FR. ORLANDO FURIOSO by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO ARTEMIS PROLOGUIZES by ROBERT BROWNING THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE by FRANK GELETT BURGESS MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: THE MASQUE-WRITER'S APOLOGY by THOMAS CAMPION |