Treasure Island

Samuel Daniel

(1562 - 1620 / England)

Sonnet III: If So It Hap


If so it hap this offspring of my care,
These fatal Anthems, sad and mournful Songs,
Come to their view, who like afflicted are;
Let them yet sigh their own, and moan my wrongs.
But untouch'd hearts, with unaffected eye,
Approach not to behold so great distress:
Clear-sighted you, soon note what is awry,
Whilst blinded ones mine errors never guess.
You blinded souls whom youth and errors lead,
You outcast Eaglets, dazzled with your sun:
Ah you, and none but you my sorrows read;
You best can judge the wrongs that she hath done.
That she hath done, the motive of my pain,
Who, whilst I love, doth kill me with disdain.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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

Read poems about / on: sad, pain, sun, sonnet, sorrow, 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 (Sonnet III: If So It Hap by Samuel Daniel )

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. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Murderer, Nassy Fesharaki
  2. The Eclipse (1975), Daniel Brick
  3. winter kiss, Dipankar Chakraborty
  4. A Lover's Rose, JJ Evendon
  5. Death was upon her, Naomi Chao
  6. Perhaps, Dipankar Chakraborty
  7. The matchless unparalelled Artist of the.., S.zaynub Kamoonpuri
  8. Sexy stem, Madrason writer
  9. Goodbye, Richard Lam
  10. Vibes, Stratis Havarti

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]