Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE COMBAT, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT First Line: Love, though thou great & dreadfull art Last Line: Else can my hart no more be mine. Subject(s): Love; Prayer; War | ||||||||
LOVE, though thou great & dreadfull art, With Boldnes Thou hast fir'd my Hart, Which trembles not to aim at Thee Ev'n with that Dart Thou shott'st at Me: Twas Love Thou shott'st; & that art Thou; And at thy Self thy Self I throw. I throw thy Self; but loe my Hart Still sticking is upon thy Dart. 2. PART And dost Thou shoot, dear LORD, again At him whome Thou before hadst slain? This Deaths Life kills me so, that I Must shoot again, or else I dy. I dy, unless I live to see This Hart & Life quite lost in Thee. Fair is my Aim, & high my Trust; Thy Side's wide ope, & shoot I must. Lo: Bid it welcome unto Thine, Else can my Hart no more be mine. | Discover our poem explanations - click here!Other Poems of Interest...BETWEEN THE WARS by ROBERT HASS I AM YOUR WAITER TONIGHT AND MY NAME IS DIMITRI by ROBERT HASS MITRAILLIATRICE by ERNEST HEMINGWAY RIPARTO D'ASSALTO by ERNEST HEMINGWAY WAR VOYEURS by JUAN FELIPE HERRERA THE DREAM OF WAKING by RANDALL JARRELL THE SURVIVOR AMONG GRAVES by RANDALL JARRELL SO MANY BLOOD-LAKES by ROBINSON JEFFERS |
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