The furious gun in his raging ire,
When that the bowl is rammed in too sore
And that the flame cannot part from the fire,
Cracketh in sunder, and in the air doth roar
The shivered pieces; right so doth my desire,
Whose flame increaseth from more to more,
Which to let out I dare not look or speak;
So now hard force my heart doth all to break.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Sir Thomas Wyatt Poems
Analysis and Comments on The Furious Gun
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Furious Gun here.
Commenting has been disabled for now.