Some fowls there be that have so perfect sight Again the sun their eyes for to defend, And some because the light doth them offend, Do never peer but in the dark or night. Other rejoice that see the fire bright And ween to play in it as they do pretend, And find the contrary of it that they intend. Alas, of that sort I may be by right. For to withstand her look I am not able; And yet can I not hide me in no dark place, Remembrance so followeth me of that face, So that with teary eyen swollen and unstable, My destiny to behold her doth me lead; Yet do I know I run into the glede. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE WATER by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS TO W.A. AND H.H. ON THEIR DEPARTURE TO EUROPE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE LETTER by CHARLOTTE BRONTE THE EMBROIDERESS AT MIDNIGHT by MARY ANN BROWNE CREOLE SLAVE SONG: THE DIRGE OF SY. MALO by GEORGE WASHINGTON CABLE BALLAD TO THE TUNE OF 'THE HEALTHS' by PATRICK CAREY |