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Poem by Caroline Lamb
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This heart has never stoop'd its pride To slavish love, or woman's wile; But, steel'd by war, has oft defy'd Her craftiest art and brightest smile. This mind has trac'd its own career, Nor follow'd blind, where others trod; Nor, mov'd by love, or hope or fear, E'er bent to man, or worshipp'd God. Then hope not now to touch with love, Or in its chains a heart to draw, All earthly spells have fail'd to move; And heav'n's whole terrors cannot awe: A heart, that like some mountain vast, And cold with never-melting snow, Sees nought above, nor deigns to cast A look away on aught below.
Caroline Lamb's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org