Welcome to Poetry.com

Poetry.com is a huge collection of poems from famous and amateur poets from around the world — collaboratively published by a community of authors and contributing editors.

Navigate through our poetry database by subjects, alphabetically or simply search by keywords. You can submit a new poem, discuss and rate existing work, listen to poems using voice pronunciation and even translate pieces to many common and not-so-common languages.

To Ellinda Upon His Late Recovery. A Paradox

Richard Lovelace 1618 – 1657

I.
How I grieve that I am well!
  All my health was in my sicknes,
Go then, Destiny, and tell,
  Very death is in this quicknes.

  II.
Such a fate rules over me,
  That I glory when I languish,
And do blesse the remedy,
  That doth feed, not quench my anguish.

  III.
'Twas a gentle warmth that ceas'd
  In the vizard of a feavor;
But I feare now I am eas'd
  All the flames, since I must leave her.

  IV.
Joyes, though witherd, circled me,
  When unto her voice inured
Like those who, by harmony,
  Only can be throughly cured.

  V.
Sweet, sure, was that malady,
  Whilst the pleasant angel hover'd,
Which ceasing they are all, as I,
  Angry that they are recover'd.

  VI.
And as men in hospitals,
  That are maim'd, are lodg'd and dined;
But when once their danger fals,
  Ah th' are healed to be pined!

  VII.
Fainting so, I might before
  Sometime have the leave to hand her,
But lusty, am beat out of dore,
  And for Love compell'd to wander.

Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)
Font size:
Collection  Edit     
 

Submitted on May 13, 2011

55 sec read
83 Views

Richard Lovelace

Richard Lovelace was an English poet more…

All Richard Lovelace poems | Richard Lovelace Books

FAVORITE (0 fans)

Discuss this Richard Lovelace poem with the community:

0 Comments

    Translation

    Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

    Select another language:

    • - Select -
    • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
    • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
    • Español (Spanish)
    • Esperanto (Esperanto)
    • 日本語 (Japanese)
    • Português (Portuguese)
    • Deutsch (German)
    • العربية (Arabic)
    • Français (French)
    • Русский (Russian)
    • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
    • 한국어 (Korean)
    • עברית (Hebrew)
    • Gaeilge (Irish)
    • Українська (Ukrainian)
    • اردو (Urdu)
    • Magyar (Hungarian)
    • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
    • Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Italiano (Italian)
    • தமிழ் (Tamil)
    • Türkçe (Turkish)
    • తెలుగు (Telugu)
    • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
    • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
    • Čeština (Czech)
    • Polski (Polish)
    • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Românește (Romanian)
    • Nederlands (Dutch)
    • Ελληνικά (Greek)
    • Latinum (Latin)
    • Svenska (Swedish)
    • Dansk (Danish)
    • Suomi (Finnish)
    • فارسی (Persian)
    • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
    • հայերեն (Armenian)
    • Norsk (Norwegian)
    • English (English)

    Citation

    Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:

    Style:MLAChicagoAPA

    "To Ellinda Upon His Late Recovery. A Paradox" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 11 Apr. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/30252/to-ellinda-upon-his-late-recovery.-a-paradox>.

    We need you!

    Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

    Browse Poetry.com

    Quiz

    Are you a poetry master?

    »
    "It's neither red nor sweet. It doesn't melt or turn over, break or harden, so it can't feel pain."
    • A. Billy Collins
    • B. Anne Sexton
    • C. Marianne Moore
    • D. Rita Dove

    Our favorite collection of

    Famous Poets

    »
    Poetry.com

    Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.