Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FORSAKEN MAID, by RICHARD BROME Poet's Biography First Line: Nor love, nor fate dare I accuse Last Line: For which offence I pine, I die. Subject(s): Death; Dead, The | ||||||||
NOR love, nor fate dare I accuse, For that my love doth me refuse: But O, mine own unworthiness, That durst presume so great a bliss! Too mickle 'twere for me to love A man so like the Gods above, With angels face, and Saint-like voice, 'Tis too divine for human choice. But had I wisely given my heart, For to have loved him but in part: As only to enjoy his face. Or any one peculiar grace; As foot, or hand, or lip, or eye: Then had I lived where now I die. But I, presuming all to choose, Am now condemnèd all to lose. You rural Gods that guard the swains, And punish all unjust disdains; O do not censure him for this, It was my error, and not his. This only boon of you I'll crave, To fix these lines upon my grave: Like Icarus, I soared too high, For which offence I pine, I die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, MASTER SHAKERLY MARMION, UPON CUPID AND PSYCHE by RICHARD BROME AUTUMN DIALOGUE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE HUMAN ABSTRACT, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE |
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