Behold, love, thy power how she despiseth! My great pain how little she regardeth! The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure, Broken she hath; and yet she bideth sure Right at her ease and little she dreadeth. Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sitteth; To the disdainful her life she leadeth, To me spiteful without cause or measure, Behold, love. I am in hold: if pity thee moveth, Go bend thy bow, that stony hearts breaketh, And with some stroke revenge the displeasure Of thee and him, that sorrow doth endure, And, as his lord, the lowly entreateth. Behold, love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 22 by JAMES JOYCE A FEW RULES FOR BEGINNERS by KATHERINE MANSFIELD IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH LETTER TO MAXINE SULLIVAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LIFE SO SHORT by EAMON GRENNAN EVERYBODY KNOWS by DAVID IGNATOW |