O WHO will give me tears? Come, all ye springs, Dwell in my head and eyes; come, clouds and rain: My grief hath need of all the watry things That nature hath produc'd. Let ev'ry vein Suck up a river to supply mine eyes, My weary, weeping eyes too drie for me, Unlesse they get new conduits, new supplies, To bear them out, and with my state agree. What are two shallow foords, two little spouts Of a lesse world? The greater is but small, A narrow cupboard for my griefs and doubts, Which want provision in the midst of all. Verses, ye are too fine a thing, too wise, For my rough sorrows: cease, be dumbe and mute, Give up your feet and running to mine eyes, And keep your measures for some lover's lute, Whose grief allows him musick and a ryme; For mine excludes both measure, tune, and time. Alas, my God! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL SOLILOQUY OF A TURKEY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE SUPERSEDED by THOMAS HARDY THE YOUNG GLASS-STAINER by THOMAS HARDY THE LEPER (2) by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS ROSAMOND: KING HENRY'S SONG by JOSEPH ADDISON |