I. OH! lady, think not that my heart has grown cold, If I woo not as once I could woo; Though sorrow has bruised it, and long years have rolled, It still doats on beauty and you; And were I to yield to its inmost desire I would labour by night and by day, Till I won you to flee from the home of your sire, To live with your love far away. II. But it is that my country's in bondage, and I Have sworn to shatter her chains! By my duty and oath I must do it or lie A corse on her desolate plains: Then, sure, dearest maiden, 'twere sinful to sue. And crueller far to win, But, should victory smile on my banner, to you I shall fly without sorrow or sin | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL CARN A-TURNEN YOLLER by WILLIAM BARNES WRITTEN AT SEA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT VARIATIONS ON SAPPHO: 35 by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY BELINDA'S RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS by WILLIAM BROOME THE LOST ATLANTIS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON FOUR EPISTLES: MIRACLE AT THE FEAST OF PENTECOST: 3 by JOHN BYROM ANTHEM FOR THE CHILDREN OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |