William Cosmo Monkhouse
WHO calls me bold because I won my love,
And did not pine,
And waste my life with secret pain, but strove
To make him mine?
I us’d no arts; ’t was Nature’s self that taught
My eye to speak,
And bid the burning blush to paint unsought
My flashing cheek;
That made my voice to tremble when I bid
My love “Goodby,”
So weak that every other sound was hid,
Except a sigh.
Oh, was it wrong to use the truth I knew,
That hearts are mov’d,
And spring warm-struck with life and love anew,
By being lov’d?
One night there came a tear, that, big and loth,
Stole ’neath my brow.
’T was thus I won my heart’s own heart, and both
Are happy now.
William Cosmo Monkhouse's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Song by William Cosmo Monkhouse )
- थिरिँ बिरिँ #45, Ronjoy Brahma
- To invasion, hasmukh amathalal
- समनि बान्दो, Ronjoy Brahma
- Last Visit To My Friend, Joyce wolayo
- MEP interrogation, Over The Moon
- Whole, Abyssinian Queen
- मेगनआव, Ronjoy Brahma
- ‘Tis permitted Us Nay, Emmanuel George Cefai
- Dilapidated house, Emmanuel George Cefai
- The violin plays, Emmanuel George Cefai
Poem of the Day
Robert Laurence Binyon
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Hans Christian Andersen
(2 April 1805 – 4 August 1875)
(21 May 1855 – 27 November 1916)