Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ON MISTRESS S.W., WHO CURED MY HAND BY A PLASTED .. KNIFE WHICH HURT, by THOMAS FLATMAN Poet's Biography First Line: Wounded and weary of my life Last Line: The salve that heal'd my hand can't cure my heart. Subject(s): Healing; Cures | ||||||||
WOUNDED and weary of my life, I to my fair one sent my knife; The point had pierced my hand as far As foe would foe in open war. Cruel, but yet compassionate, she Spread plasters for my enemy; She hugg'd the wretch had done me harm, And in her bosom kept it warm, When suddenly I found the cure was done, The pain and all the anguish gone, Those nerves which stiff and tender were Now very free and active are: Not help'd by any power above, But a true miracle of Love. Henceforth, physicians, burn your bills, Prescribe no more uncertain pills: She can at distance vanquish pain, She makes the grave to gape in vain: 'Mongst all the arts that saving be None so sublime as sympathy. Oh could it help a wounded breast, I'd send my soul to have it dress'd. Yet, rather, let herself apply The sovereign med'cine to her eye: There lurks the weapon wounds me deep, There, that which stabs me in my sleep; For still I feel, within, a mortall smart, The salve that heal'd my hand can't cure my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE VOLUME MISSING by RITA DOVE READING HOLDERLIN ON THE PATIO WITH THE AID OF A DICTIONARY by RITA DOVE BANGLA DESH: 2. THE BLOOD IN MY EYES by FAIZ AHMED FAIZ VACATION: CALIFORNIA COAST by ALBERT GOLDBARTH FOR MY DAUGHTER by DAVID IGNATOW FOR MY MOTHER ILL by DAVID IGNATOW WITH THE DOOR OPEN by DAVID IGNATOW NOTHING WILL CURE THE SICK LION BUT TO EAT AN APE' by MARIANNE MOORE AN APPEAL TO CATS IN THE BUSINESS OF LOVE; SONG by THOMAS FLATMAN |
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