CAST off, for shame, ungentle Maid, That misbecoming joy thou wear'st; For in my death, though long delay'd, Unwisely cruel thou appear'st. Insult o'er captives with disdain, Thou canst not triumph o'er the slain. No, I am now no longer thine, Nor canst thou take delight to see Him whom thy love did once confine, Set, though by Death, at liberty; For if my fall a smile beget, Thou gloriest in thy own defeat. Behold how thy unthrifty pride Hath murder'd him that did maintain it! And wary souls, who never tried Thy tyrant beauty, will disdain it: But I am softer, and that me Thou wouldst not pity, pity thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE POOR by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TO LIZBIE BROWNE by THOMAS HARDY ULTIMA THULE: THE TIDE RISES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MURMURINGS IN A FIELD HOSPITAL by CARL SANDBURG CEREMONIAL ODE; INTENDED FOR A UNIVERSITY by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE |