Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PAIN WROUGHT, by GRACE DENIO LITCHFIELD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PAIN WROUGHT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Pain, pain, the creator pain
Last Line: And because I suffer, I sing.
Subject(s): Pain; Suffering; Misery


PAIN, Pain, the Creator Pain
Is making a poet of me.
He has flung my soul in the pit below
Where his furnace fires the fiercest glow.
He is feeding the flames with woe on woe.
My heart must thrill with every throe
That human creature can live to know.
I must suffer that I may sing.

Pain, Pain, the Creator Pain
Is working his will with me.
Ashes and ruin and havoc complete
Has he wrought of all I held dear and sweet
My soul lies scarred in the scorching heat.
My thoughts run riot with blazing feet,
Like madmen through a deserted street.
And because I suffer, I sing.





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