O Solitude! to thy sequester'd vale I come to hide my sorrow and my tears, And to thy echoes tell the mournful tale Which scarce I trust to pitying Friendship's ears! Amidst thy wild-woods, and untrodden glades, No sounds but those of melancholy move; And the low winds that die among thy shades, Seem like soft Pity's sighs for hopeless love! And sure some story of despair and pain, In you deep copse thy murm'ring doves relate; And, hark, methinks in that long plaintive strain, Thine own sweet songstress weeps my wayward fate! Ah, Nymph! that fate assist me to endure, And bear awhile -- what Death alone can cure! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOURNING-GARMENT: THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG by ROBERT GREENE SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON AN HYMN IN HONOUR OF BEAUTY by EDMUND SPENSER SONNET UPON HISTORIE OF GEORGE CASTRIOT, ALIAS SCANDERBERG by EDMUND SPENSER IMAGES: 2 by RICHARD ALDINGTON LEFT BEHIND by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 46 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |