My prime of youth is but a frost of cares, My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn is but a field of tares, And all my good is but vain hope of gain; The day is past, and yet I saw no sun, And now I live, and now my life is done. My tale was heard and yet it was not told, My fruit is fallen and yet my leaves are green, My youth is spent and yet I am not old, I saw the world and yet I was not seen; My thread is cut and yet it is not spun, And now I live, and now my life is done. I sought my death and found it in my womb, I looked for life and saw it was a shade, I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb, And now I die, and now I was but made; The glass is full, and now my glass is run, And now I live, and now my life is done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VANISHING BOAT by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE SPRING QUIET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SNOWBOUND by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER EL HOMBRE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS SONNET: THE RARITY OF GENIUS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SACRED LYRIC by ISIDORE G. ASCHER SONGS OF NIGHT TO MORNING: 1. AT THE THEATRE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |