I feed a flame within, which so torments me
That it both pains my heart, and yet contains me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die than once remove it.
Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.
Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel;
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.
On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me.
To be more happy I dare not aspire,
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.
That is a great poem to put on your blog. Maybe next time you could place a link to it, so that the poem's text does not take up so much space.
ReplyDeleteThis has interesting metaphor and crypticism for a closed form poem. It seems that frequently poems that have closed form have less meaning behind them (see tanner's blog, first three entries,) but he really uses it well.
ReplyDeleteWho wrote this? It doesn't sound like you, but you also don't give any credit. If it's yours, I apologize.
ReplyDelete