MY sickly breath Wastes in a double flame; Whilst Love and Death To my poor life lay claim; The fever, in whose heat I melt, By her that causeth it not felt. Thou who alone Canst, yet wilt grant no ease, Why slight'st thou one To feed a new disease? Unequal fair! the heart is thine; Ah, why then should the pain be mine? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILLINOIS FARMER by CARL SANDBURG THE RETIREMENT; TO MR. IZAAK WALTON by CHARLES COTTON THE LITTLE CROSS by EDITH AGNEW STANZAS ON THE CONVERSION OF THE JEWS by BERNARD BARTON THIRD REUNION POEM by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |