Ah bed, the field where joy's peace some do see, The field where all my thoughts to war be trained, How is thy grace by my strange fortune stained! How thy lee shores by my sighs stormed be! With sweet soft shades thou oft invitest me To steal some rest; but, wretch, I am constrained (Spurred with love's spur, though galled and shortly reined With care's hard hand) to turn and toss in thee, While the black horrors of the silent night Paint woe's black face so lively to my sight That tedious leisure marks each wrinkled line. But when Aurora leads out Phoebus' dance, Mine eyes then only wink, for spite, perchance, That worms should have their sun, and I want mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DADDY STRAIN by KAREN SWENSON A NYMPH'S PASSION by BEN JONSON ODE TO THE CONNECTICUT RIVER by JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD THE IDEAL by KATHARINE LEE BATES EPITAPH ON DIOPHANTUS by JAMES HAY BEATTIE TO ALEXIS IN ANSWER TO HIS POEM AGAINST FRUITION by APHRA BEHN |