Beneath a churchyard yew, Decayed and worn with age, At dusk of eve methought I spied Poor Slender's ghost, that whimpering cried, "O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!" Ye gentle bards, give ear! Who talk of amorous rage, Who spoil the lily, rob the rose, Come learn of me to weep your woes: "O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!" Why should such labored strains Your formal Muse engage? I never dreamed of flame or dart, That fired my breast or pierced my heart, But sighed, "O sweet Anne Page!" And you, whose lovesick minds No medicine can assuage! Accuse the leech's art no more, But learn of Slender to deplore: "O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!" And ye, whose souls are held Like linnets in a cage! Who talk of fetters, links, and chains, Attend and imitate my strains: "O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!" And you, who boast or grieve, What horrid wars ye wage! Of wounds received from many an eye, Yet mean as I do, when I sigh, "O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!" Hence every fond conceit Of shepherd or of sage; 'Tis Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way, Expresses all you have to say: "O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MENAPHON: SEPHESTIA'S [CRADLE] SONG TO HER CHILD by ROBERT GREENE EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: BOMBER IN LONDON by RUDYARD KIPLING THE BEAN-STALK by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY EPIGRAM: PERJURY by ROBERT NUGENT TO HELEN (1) by EDGAR ALLAN POE |