FROM Whitehall Stairs, whence oft with distant view I've gazed whole moonshine hours on hours away, Blest but to see those roofs which covered you, And watched beneath what star you sleeping lay; Launched on the smiling stream, which felt my hope, And danced and quivered round my gliding boat, I came this day to give my tongue free scope, And vent the passion which my looks denote. To tell my dear, my soul-disturbing Muse (But that's a name can speak but half her charms), How my full heart does my pen's aid refuse, And bids my voice describe my soul's alarms. To tell what transports your last letter gave, What heav'ns were opened in your soft complaint; To tell what pride I take to be your slave, And how triumphant love disdains restraint. But when I missed you, and took boat again, The sympathetic sun condoled my woe, Drew in his beams to mourn my pitied pain, And bid the shadowed stream benighted flow. Sudden, the weeping skies unsluiced their store, And torrents of big tears unceasing shed; Sad, I drove homeward to a flooded shore, And, disappointed, hung my dripping head. Landed at length, I sable coffee drink And, ill-surrounded by a noisy tribe, Scornful of what they do, or say, or think, I, rapt in your dear heav'n, my loss describe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHAT DOES A WOMAN WANT? by KAREN SWENSON FROM THE WOOLWORTH TOWER by SARA TEASDALE THE AGONY [AGONIE] by GEORGE HERBERT ALASTOR; OR, THE SPIRIT OF SOLITUDE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 38 by EDWARD TAYLOR OH, LOVE THOU TOO! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |