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Question about this poem? Have a question about this poem? Have a specific question about this poem? Have a specific question about this poem? Have a specific question about this poem? A LitCharts expert can help. A LitCharts expert can help. A LitCharts expert can help. A LitCharts expert can help. A LitCharts expert can help. Ask a question Ask a question Ask a question"A Complaint" is a short poem by the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth. Published in 1807, the poem is often taken as being about Wordsworth's falling out with his close friend and fellow poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, though it can also be read as a commentary on the pain of lost love more generally. The poem portrays the love that speaker used to have as a life-enriching force. The loss of this love, in turn, feels like a wellspring of joy has suddenly dried up. In this way, the poem captures the despair felt by anyone who has lost the love of someone dear and can't seem to stop thinking about what used to be.
1 There is a change—and I am poor;
2 Your love hath been, nor long ago,
3 A fountain at my fond heart's door,
4 Whose only business was to flow;
5 And flow it did; not taking heed
6 Of its own bounty, or my need.
7 What happy moments did I count!
8 Blest was I then all bliss above!
9 Now, for that consecrated fount
10 Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
11 What have I? shall I dare to tell?
12 A comfortless and hidden well.
13 A well of love—it may be deep—
14 I trust it is,—and never dry:
15 What matter? if the waters sleep
16 In silence and obscurity.
17 —Such change, and at the very door
18 Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
1 There is a change—and I am poor;
2 Your love hath been, nor long ago,
3 A fountain at my fond heart's door,
4 Whose only business was to flow;
5 And flow it did; not taking heed
6 Of its own bounty, or my need.
7 What happy moments did I count!
8 Blest was I then all bliss above!
9 Now, for that consecrated fount
10 Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
11 What have I? shall I dare to tell?
12 A comfortless and hidden well.
13 A well of love—it may be deep—
14 I trust it is,—and never dry:
15 What matter? if the waters sleep
16 In silence and obscurity.
17 —Such change, and at the very door
18 Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
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.
1 There is a change—and I am poor;
2 Your love hath been, nor long ago,
3 A fountain at my fond heart's door,
4 Whose only business was to flow;
5 And flow it did; not taking heed
6 Of its own bounty, or my need.
7 What happy moments did I count!
8 Blest was I then all bliss above!
9 Now, for that consecrated fount
10 Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
11 What have I? shall I dare to tell?
12 A comfortless and hidden well.
13 A well of love—it may be deep—
14 I trust it is,—and never dry:
15 What matter? if the waters sleep
16 In silence and obscurity.
17 —Such change, and at the very door
18 Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
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