Ah! think'st thou, Laura, then, that wealth Should make me thus my youth, and health, And freedom and repose resign? -- Ah, no! -- I toil to gain by stealth One look, one tender glance of thine. Born where huge hills on hills are piled, In Caledonia's distant wild, Unbounded Liberty was mine: But thou upon my hopes hast smiled, And bade me be a slave of thine! Amid these gloomy haunts of gain, Of weary hours I not complain, While Hope forbids me to repine, And whispering tells me I obtain Pity from that soft heart of thine. Tho' far capricious Fortune flies, Yet Love will bless the sacrifice, And all his purer joys combine; While I my little world comprise In that fair form, and fairer soul of thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO BE LIKED BY YOU WOULD BE A CALAMITY by MARIANNE MOORE WHEN I BUY PICTURES by MARIANNE MOORE DEATH AND CUPID; AN ALLEGORY by JOHN GODFREY SAXE ON LYNN TERRACE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AN EASTER OFFERING by NANCY A. BASTON AN EVENING PROSPECT by ANN ELIZA BLEECKER MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: SONG by THOMAS CAMPION |