The fruit of all the service that I serve Despair doth reap, such hapless hap have I. But though he have no power to make me swerve, Yet, by the fire, for cold I feel I die. In paradise, for hunger still I sterve; And, in the flood, for thirst to death I dry. So Tantalus am I, and in worse pain Amids my help, and helpless doth remain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GALAHAD IN THE CASTLE OF THE MAIDENS by SARA TEASDALE THE YOUNG MYSTIC by LOUIS UNTERMEYER QUATORZAINS: 5. TO NIGHT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES AN ODE TO HIMSELF by BEN JONSON THE DEATH OF AUTUMN by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ODES I, 9. TO WINTER by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS I DREAM I'M LEAVING by MARGARET AHO |