IF, as the windes and waters here below Do flie and flow, My sighs and tears as busy were above, Sure they would move And much affect thee, as tempestuous times Amaze poore mortals, and object their crimes. Starres have their storms, ev'n in a high degree, As well as we. A throbbing conscience, spurred by remorse, Hath a strange force: It quits the earth, and, mounting more and more, Dares to assault thee, and besiege thy doore. There it stands knocking, to thy musicks wrong, And drowns the song. Glorie and honour are set by, till it An answer get. Poets have wrong'd poore storms: such dayes are best; They purge the aire without, within the breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BROTHER AND SISTER by MARY ANN EVANS A BLACKBIRD SUDDENLY by JOSEPH AUSLANDER AFTER-SIGHT by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE PHILANDERER by BERTON BRALEY BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE THIRD SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 15. TROCHAIC VERSE: THE ELEVENTH EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION THE MUTINY YEAR by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS SONG AND CRY OF A SOLDIER IN THE LINES by ALBERT EDWARD CLEMENTS |