Book 2 — ON A DISCOVERY MADE TOO LATE[72:1]
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ON A DISCOVERY MADE TOO LATE[72:1]
Thou bleedest, my poor Heart! and thy distress Reasoning I ponder with a scornful smile And probe thy sore wound sternly, though the while Swoln be mine eye and dim with heaviness. Why didst thou listen to Hope's whisper bland? 5 Or, listening, why forget the healing tale, When Jealousy with feverous fancies pale Jarr'd thy fine fibres with a maniac's hand? Faint was that Hope, and rayless!—Yet 'twas fair And sooth'd with many a dream the hour of rest: 10 Thou should'st have lov'd it most, when most opprest, And nurs'd it with an agony of care, Even as a mother her sweet infant heir That wan and sickly droops upon her breast!
1794.
FOOTNOTES:
LINENOTES:
Title] Effusion xix. 1796 (in 'Contents' To my Heart): Sonnet II. On a Discovery made too late 1797, 1803, and again in P. and D. W., 1877-80: Sonnet xi. 1828, 1829, 1834.
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Doth Reason ponder with an anguish'd smile Probing thy sore wound sternly, tho' the while Her eye be swollen and dim with heaviness.
Letter, 1794.
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6
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the] its Letter, 1794.
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7
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feverous] feverish 1796, 1797, 1803, 1828, 1829.
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14
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wan] pale Letter, 1794.