THERE'S not a look, a word of thine My soul hath e'er forgot; Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine, Nor given thy locks one graceful twine Which I remember not! There never yet a murmur fell From that beguiling tongue, Which did not, with a lingering spell, Upon my charmed senses dwell, Like something heaven had sung! Ah! that I could, at once, forget All, all that haunts me so -- And yet, thou witching girl! -- and yet, To die were sweeter, than to let The loved remembrance go! No; if this slighted heart must see Its faithful pulse decay, Oh! let it die, remembering thee, And, like the burnt aroma, be Consumed in sweets away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOKEN AT A CASTLE GATE by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON THE WILD FLOWER'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE A MONA LISA by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE A MOOD by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONNET OF FISHES by GEORGE BARKER A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 18 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 35 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |