FAR from thy dearest self, the scope
Of all my aims,
I waste in secret flames;
And only live because I hope.
O when will Fate restore
The joys, in whose bright fire
My expectation shall expire,
That I may live because I hope no more!
To His Mistress In Absence
Torquato Tasso
(1)
Poem topics: fate, fire, bright, secret, waste, restore, hope, live, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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