Some time I fled the fire that me brent, By sea, by land, by water, and by wind; And now I follow the coles that be quent From Dover to Calais against my mind. Lo! how desire is both sprung and spent! And he may see that whilome was so blind; And all his labor now he laught to scorn, Mashed in the breers that erst was all to torn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PHONECALL FROM FRANK O'HARA by ANNE WALDMAN THE CHILTERNS by RUPERT BROOKE A VALEDICTION: OF WEEPING by JOHN DONNE WALDEINSAMKEIT by RALPH WALDO EMERSON AVE ATQUE VALE; IN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |