FATIGUE itself may be a pleasant thing And weariness be silken, soft and fine! Upon my eyes its little vapors shine, Trailing me softly like a colored wing! Tender as when beloved voices sing It steals upon me and with touch divine Lulls all my senses till each thought of mine Is hushed to quiet, unremembering. Oh, weariness thrice dear, so frailly spun Of ended pleasure that still shines and glows; Oh, weariness, thrice dear! What have I done To earn this delicate and deep repose? Child, thou hast worshipped at the setting sun And looked, long, long, upon the opening rose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SWAN AND THE GOOSE by AESOP THE MAIDEN CITY by CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH TONNA ORLANDO FURIOSO: CANTO 10. by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO SONNET by THEODORE AGRIPPA D' AUBIGNE THE YOUNG THAT DIED IN BEAUTY by WILLIAM BARNES SEEKING WATERS by DORIS R. BECK |