“
A Complaint
There is a change--and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.
What happy moments did I count!
Blest was I then all bliss above!
Now, for that consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I? Shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden well.
A well of love--it may be deep--
I trust it is,--and never dry:
What matter? If the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
--Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
- 183 Views
Translation
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
Español (Spanish)
Esperanto (Esperanto)
日本語 (Japanese)
Português (Portuguese)
Deutsch (German)
العربية (Arabic)
Français (French)
Русский (Russian)
ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
한국어 (Korean)
עברית (Hebrew)
Український (Ukrainian)
اردو (Urdu)
Magyar (Hungarian)
मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
Indonesia (Indonesian)
Italiano (Italian)
தமிழ் (Tamil)
Türkçe (Turkish)
తెలుగు (Telugu)
ภาษาไทย (Thai)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
Čeština (Czech)
Polski (Polish)
Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
Românește (Romanian)
Nederlands (Dutch)
Ελληνικά (Greek)
Latinum (Latin)
Svenska (Swedish)
Dansk (Danish)
Suomi (Finnish)
فارسی (Persian)
ייִדיש (Yiddish)
հայերեն (Armenian)
Norsk (Norwegian)
English (English)
Discuss this William Wordsworth poem with the community:
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"A Complaint" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 8 Dec. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/42109/a-complaint>.