I cursed thee oft; I pity now thy case, Blind-hitting boy, since she that thee and me Rules with a beck, so tyrannizeth thee, That thou must want or food, or dwelling-place. For she protests to banish thee her face -- Her face? O love, a rogue thou then shouldst be, If love learn not alone to love and see, Without desire to feed of further grace. Alas poor wag, that now a scholar art To such a school-mistress, whose lessons new Thou needs must miss, and so thou needs must smart. Yet dear, let me this pardon get of you, So long (though he from book mich to desire) Till without fuel you can make hot fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAGED GOLDFINCH by THOMAS HARDY SEA-SONG by WILLIAM DRUMMOND BAKER VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF DR. LLOYD (2) by VINCENT BOURNE WRITTEN TO GAALDINE PRISON CAVES TO A.G.A. by EMILY JANE BRONTE A FABLE, FOR HENRICUS D., ESQ., JR by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: COUNT RINALDO RINALDI by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE FAR BLUE HILLS by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE |