I ask no kind return in love, No tempting charm to please, Far from the heart such gifts remove, That sighs for peace and ease! Nor ease, nor peace, that heart can know, That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But, turning, trembles too. Far as distress the soul can wound, 'Tis pain in each degree: 'Tis bliss but to a certain bound— Beyond—is agony. Then take this treacherous sense of mine, Which dooms me still to smart; Which pleasure can to pain refine; To pain, new pangs impart. O! haste to shed the sovereign balm, My shattered nerves new-string; And for my guest, serenely calm, The nymph Indifference bring! At her approach, see Hope, see Fear, See Expectation fly! And Disappointment in the rear, That blasts the purpos'd joy. The tears which pity taught to flow, My eyes shall then disown; The heart that throbbed at other's woe, Shall then scarce feel its own. The wounds which now each moment bleed, Each moment then shall close; And tranquil days shall still succeed To nights of sweet repose. And what of life remains for me, I'll pass in sober ease; Half-pleased, contented I will be, Content—but half to please. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE TRUE UNTIL DEATH by ROBERT BURNS AD LESBIAM by GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS THE PLANTATION CHILD'S LULLABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE COMING OF SPRING by NORA PERRY |