WHAT boots it me to see this verdure fair That laughs along the fields -- to hear the call Of birdlings, and the purling waterfall, And Spring-time winds that woo the murmurous air, When she that woundeth me, yet hath no care Of how my pains increase, comes not at all And hides the brightness of her eyes withal, Twin stars, that fed my heart with heavenly fare. I had far rather keep old Winter's cold; For Winter doth less aptly aid Love's charms Than Spring-time months, that are Love's Summoners Yet make me hate myself, who cannot hold In this fair month of April in my arms Her who doth hold my life and death in hers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTTO TO THE SONGS OF INNOCENCE & OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE ON THE RHINE by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES WYNKEN, BLYNKEN AND NOD by EUGENE FIELD THE BALLAD OF BAZILE BORGNE: L'ENVOI by IDA COLE BARTLATT OXFORD IN WAR-TIME by LAURENCE BINYON TO CLARE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN NO SORROW PECULIAR TO THE SUFFERER by VINCENT BOURNE |