In wonted walks, since wonted fancies change, Some cause there is, which of strange cause doth rise: For in each thing, whereto mine eye doth range, Part of my pain, me seems, engraved lies. The rocks, which were of constant mind the mark, In climbing steep now hard refusal show; The shading woods seem now my sun to dark, And stately hills disdain to look so low. The restful caves now restless visions give; In dales I see each way a hard ascent; Like late mown meads, late cut from joy I live; Alas, sweet brooks do in my tears augment: Rocks, woods, hills, caves, dales, meads, brooks, answer me: Infected minds infect each thing they see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ISN'T IT ROMANTIC by KAREN SWENSON HILL-SIDE TREE by MAXWELL BODENHEIM SHERMAN'S IN SAVANNAH [DECEMBER 22, 1864] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE CITY AT THE END OF THINGS by ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN SONNET: 21 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 110 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ON PASSING THE NEW MENIN GATE by SIEGFRIED SASSOON |