William Makepeace Thackeray
Returning from the cruel fight
How pale and faint appears my knight!
He sees me anxious at his side;
'Why seek, my love, your wounds to hide?
Or deem your English girl afraid
To emulate the Indian maid?'
Be mine my husband's grief to cheer
In peril to be ever near;
Whate'er of ill or woe betide,
To bear it clinging at his side;
The poisoned stroke of fate to ward,
His bosom with my own to guard:
Ah! could it spare a pang to his,
It could not know a purer bliss!
'Twould gladden as it felt the smart,
And thank the hand that flung the dart!
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Comments about this poem (From Pocahontas by William Makepeace Thackeray )
- She does, hasmukh amathalal
- Multi-dimensional; heavens?, Mark Heathcote
- Watch, ramesh rai
- You Know I Do, Michael McParland
- Drowning, Neela Nath
- Where to go, gajanan mishra
- This African Woman, Anthony Seyi Abiodun
- My sky is not clear and blue, BARRY WYATT JR.
- Salvation, gajanan mishra
- beef, it's what boys like, Mandolyn ...
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