Il babeeb! thy heart's a rock; I must put my helm a-lee, Or my bark will soon be wrecked, if Love refuse to stay the shock. Ah, relent! for thee and me Life's but a brief perspective! Think how soon on Death's dark shore She who plagues and they who pine, Both Despoiler and Despoiled meet! Why must Medjnims evermore Drink their tears as wormwood wine, And devour their hearts as broiled meat? Thy fair face, whose light might guide Ships by night, is as a book Which Love's hand has writ at large in; And thy locks on either side, In their ink-black lustre look Like the glosses down its margin! Such a face, with such a heart!- Oh, 'tis ghastly! We men may Mourn our nature when we scan it; But let none take woman's part! Man at most is made of clay- Woman seems a block of granite! All day long I sulk and sculk To and fro till night, and then Slumber flies mine eye and eyelid. I must hire some cobbler's bulk, Watchman's box, or jackal's den, Where I may remain a while hid! I, once plump as Shiraz grape, Am, like Thalbh of thin renown, Grown most chasmy, most phantasmy, Yea, most razor-sharp in shape!- Fact! And if I'm-blown through town, I'll-cut all the sumphs who pass me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF LEONIDAS by GEORGE CROLY TO THE NIGHTINGALE by ANNE FINCH THE IRISH SPINNING-WHEEL by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES PRAYER IN THE TRENCHES by BRENT DOW ALLINSON A SOCIETY MARTYR by JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 4. WORTHY MEMORY by WILLIAM BASSE |