I grieve and dare not show my discontent
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate
I do yet dare not say I every meant
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate
I am and not I freeze and yet am burned
Since from myself another self I turn
My care is like my shawdow in the sun
Follows me flying, stand and lies by me doth in what I have done
His to familiar care doth make me rue it
No means I find to rid him from my breast
Till by the ends of things it be supprest
Some gentler passion slides into my mind
For I am but soft as melting snow
Be more cruel, love, or so be kind
let me or float or sink, be high or low
Or die and so forget what love are meant
Thank you please tell me your thoughts on it
This poem is by Queen Eliabeth 1
2006-10-02
15:11:33
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6 answers
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peace3anarchy
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Performing Arts