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Song

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt 1840 (Petworth House) – 1922 (United Kingdom)

O FLY not, Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure;
  Fold me thy wings, I prithee, yet and stay:
  For my heart no measure
  Knows, nor other treasure
To buy a garland for my love to-day.

And thou, too, Sorrow, tender-hearted Sorrow,
  Thou gray-eyed mourner, fly not yet away:
  For I fain would borrow
  Thy sad weeds to-morrow,
  To make a mourning for love's yesterday.

The voice of Pity, Time's divine dear Pity,
  Moved me to tears: I dared not say them nay,
  But passed forth from the city,
  Making thus my ditty
Of fair love lost for ever and a day.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt was an English poet and writer. more…

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    "Song" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 1 Mar. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/38814/song>.

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