THY look of love has power to calm The stormiest passion of my soul; Thy gentle words are drops of balm In life's too bitter bowl; No grief is mine, but that alone These choicest blessings I have known. Harriet! if all who long to live In the warm sunshine of thine eye, That price beyond all pain must give, -- Beneath thy scorn to die; Then hear thy chosen own too late His heart most worthy of thy hate. Be thou, then, one among mankind Whose heart is harder not for state, Thou only virtuous, gentle, kind, Amid a world of hate; And by a slight endurance seal A fellow-being's lasting weal. For pale with anguish is his cheek, His breath comes fast, his eyes are dim, Thy name is struggling ere he speak, Weak is each trembling limb; In mercy let him not endure The misery of a fatal cure. Oh, trust for once no erring guide! Bid the remorseless feeling flee; 'T is malice, 't is revenge, 't is pride, 'T is anything but thee; Oh, deign a nobler pride to prove, And pity if thou canst not love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY DEARLING by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN A TOCCATA OF GALUPPI'S by ROBERT BROWNING THE OWL AND THE PUSSY CAT by EDWARD LEAR CHRIST IN THE UNIVERSE by ALICE MEYNELL THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 14 by OMAR KHAYYAM TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 1: 3. WINTER by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE |