William Cosmo Monkhouse

(1840 - 1901 / England)

Song


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.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: nature, spring, truth, happy, pain, heart, night, life, love, song

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Song by William Cosmo Monkhouse )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Forgiveness, Tony Ford
  2. Chaperon, Nassy Fesharaki
  3. Great Warmth of a Curious Heart, B.. Alexander
  4. Whereabouts, B.. Alexander
  5. you're tall enough to ride this ride, Mandolyn ...
  6. Acrostic, Cheryl Griffith
  7. Heart, Sello Matsepe
  8. It Feels So Far Away This Evening..., B.. Alexander
  9. Neophytic Gay-Blade, Richard Thripp
  10. Rebel, Nassy Fesharaki

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Walter Scott

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]