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THE MISTAKE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: When on fair celia I did spy
Last Line: A wounded heart like mine.
Subject(s): Love – Llss Of


WHEN on fair Celia I did spy
A wounded heart of stone,
The wound had almost made me cry,
Sure this heart was my own!

But when I saw it was enthron'd
In her celestial breast,
O then I it no longer own'd,
For mine was ne'er so blest.

Yet if in highest heavens do shine
Each constant martyr's heart,
Then she may well give rest to mine,
That for her sake doth smart;

Where, seated in so high a bliss,
Though wounded, it shall live;
Death enters not in Paradise,
The place free life doth give.

Or if the place less sacred were,
Did but her saving eye
Bathe my sick heart in one kind tear,
Then should I never die.

Slight balms may heal a slighter sore,
No medicine less divine
Can ever hope for to restore
A wounded heart like mine.





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