PARDON, my Fair! subdue those angry lights! Penitence shall with industry combine In restoration of exacted rights Which, being grudged, were and yet were not mine. 'Twas but an hour—and yet 'twas thrice too long— That left your lonely wilful head unkissed; And what that can be wrought, sonnet or song, Shall recompense you for such gladness missed? Henceforward I forswear the golden lure, The turning wheel, the watch, the breathless pause, The Muse, and all the covetous game unsure, For love's domestic and sedater laws. Well may my purse of time in play be spent, But never yours, nor your desired content. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: CARL HAMBLIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO GIOVANNI DA PISTOIA ON THE PAINTING OF THE SISTINE CHAPEL, 1509 by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI FAR - FAR - AWAY (FOR MUSIC) by ALFRED TENNYSON AN EARNEST SUIT [TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORESAKE HIM] by THOMAS WYATT GHOST STARS by MADELEINE AARON NIGHTINGALE AND CUCKOO by ALFRED AUSTIN |