Author Thomas Stanley TASSO Far from thy dearest self, (the Scope Of all my Aims) I waste in secret Flames; And onely live because I hope. O when will Fate restore The Joyes, in whose bright fire My Expectation shall expire, That I may live because I hope no more! Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments