My days have been so wondrous free, The little birds that fly With careless ease from tree to tree, Were but as blessed as I. Ask gliding waters, if a tear Of mine increased their stream? Or ask the flying gales, if e'er I lent one sigh to them? But now my former days retire, And I'm by beauty caught; The tender chains of sweet desire Are fixed upon my thought. Ye nightingales, ye twisting pines! Ye swains that haunt the grove! Ye gentle echoes, breezy winds! Ye close retreats of love! With all of nature, all of art, Assist the dear design; Oh teach a young, unpractised heart To make my Nancy mine! The very thought of change I hate, As much as of despair; Nor ever covet to be great, Unless it be for her. 'Tis true, the passion in my mind Is mixed with soft distress; Yet while the fair I love is kind, I cannot wish it less. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ATELIER CEZANNE by CLARENCE MAJOR OF JACOPO DEL SELLAIO by EZRA POUND BRICKLAYER LOVE by CARL SANDBURG WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU by ROBERT BURNS SWITZERLAND by JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES UPON THE DEATH OF SIR ALBERT MORTON'S WIFE by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS |