1. I held Love's head while it did ake; But so it chanc't to be; The cruell paine did his forsake, And forthwith came to me. 2. Ai me! How shal my griefe be stil'd? Or where else shall we find One like to me, who must be kill'd For being too-too-kind? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHTMARE, FR. IOLANTHE by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT PAN IN WALL STREET by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN SONNET AGAINST THE DISPRAYSERS OF POETRIE by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 39. FAREWELL TO JULIET (1) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT EPIGRAM: 19. NICOTELES by CALLIMACHUS THE DUKE OF BYRON IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH by GEORGE CHAPMAN (1559-1634) |