Sonet 71

Sir William Alexander

 Next Poem          

For eyes that are deliuer'd of their birth,
And hearts that can complaine, none needs to care:
I pitie not their sighes that pierce the ayre,
To weepe at will were a degree of mirth:
But he (ay me) is to be pitied most,
Whose sorrowes haue attain'd to that degree,
That they are past expressing, and can be
Onely imagin'd by a man that's lost.
The teares that would burst out yet are restrain'd,
Th'imprison'd plaints that perish without fame,
Sighs form'd and smoother'd ere they get a name,
Those to be pitied are (รด griefe vnfain'd)
Whil'st sighes the voice, the voice the sighs confounds,
Then teares marre both, and all are out of bounds.

Next Poem 

 Back to Sir William Alexander
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.