Take hence this tuneful trifler's lays! I'll hear no more the unmeaning strain Of Venus' Loves, and Cupids' darts, And killing eyes, and wounded hearts; All flattery's round of fulsome praise, All falsehood's cant of fabled pain. Bring me the Muse, whose tongue has told Love's genuine plaintive tender tale; Bring me the Muse, whose sounds of woe 'Midst death's dread scenes so sweetly flow, When friendship's faithful breast lies cold, When beauty's blooming cheek is pale: Bring these—I like their grief sincere; It soothes my sympathetic gloom: For, oh! love's genuine pains I've borne, And death's dread rage has made me mourn; I've wept o'er friendship's early bier, And dropped the tear on beauty's tomb. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL WYATT BEING IN PRISON, TO BRIAN by THOMAS WYATT TO THE RETURNED GIRLS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SYMPHONY OF THE SOIL by EVA K. ANGLESBURG FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: MAN'S GUARD AGAINST DEATH by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |