Sighs are my food, drink are my tears; Clinking of fetters such music would crave; Stink and close air away my life wears; Innocency is all the hope I have. Rain, wind or weather I judge by mine ears. Malice assaulted that righteousness should have. Sure I am, Brian, this wound shall heal again, But yet, alas, the scar shall still remain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RETIREMENT; TO MR. IZAAK WALTON by CHARLES COTTON AFTER THE WINTER by CLAUDE MCKAY MUSIC IN THE NIGHT by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD THE BIRD WITH THE COPPERY, KEEN CLAWS by WALLACE STEVENS CHINA 1937 by LAURA FRANCES ALEXANDER WRITTEN, AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN, UNDER A .. PICTURE by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE LAST LULLABY by HENRY BATAILLE A TRIBUTE TO WILL ROGERS AND WILEY POST by ROSETTA THORSON BEACHLER |