My Picture Left in Scotland
I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,
For else it could not be
Whom I adore so much, should so slight me
And cast my love behind.
I'm sure my language to her was as sweet,
And every close did meet
In sentence of as subtle feet,
As hath the youngest He
That sits in shadow of Apollo's tree.
O, but my conscious fears,
That fly my thoughts between,
Tell me that she hath seen
My hundred of gray hairs,
Told seven and forty years
Read so much waste, as she cannot embrace
My mountain belly and my rocky face;
And all these through her eyes have stopp'd her ears.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Sorry, no poems have been posted.
Analysis and Comments on My Picture Left in Scotland
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem My Picture Left in Scotland here.