POOR souls, who think that joy is bought With pelf; The bait that captures joy is joy Itself. My joy it came mysteriously At birth; I give it to, not take it from The earth. Have pity on my enemy: Again, And yet again, my triumph gives Him pain. Come, Death, give me life's perfect end; Take me In my sleep, Oh Death, and do not Wake me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD LAURA SLEEPING; ODE by CHARLES COTTON CORN-LAW HYMN by EBENEZER ELLIOTT IT'S A QUEER TIME by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES IN HOSPITAL: 23. MUSIC by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 105 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |