TO me more known than you is your sad chance. Oh! had I still enjoy'd such ignorance; Then I by these spent tears had not been known, Nor left another's grief to sing mine own. Yet since his fate hath wrought these throes, Permit a Partner in your woes: The cause doth yield, and still may do, Enough for YOU, and others too. But if such plaints for YOU are kept, Yet may I grieve since you have wept. For he more perfect grows to be, That feels another's MISERY. And though these drops which mourning run, From several fountains first begun, And some far off, some nearer fleet, They will (at last) in one stream meet. Mine shall with yours, yours mix with mine, And make one Off'ring at his Shrine: For whose ETERNITY on earth, my Muse To build this ALTAR, did her best skill use; And that you, I, and all that held him dear, Our tears and sighs might freely offer here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENT 113 by HILDA DOOLITTLE TASTING THE EARTH by JAMES OPPENHEIM FROLIC by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL SONNET TO LIBERTY by OSCAR WILDE MID-OCEAN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 7. FAREWELL TO WHITE-NIGHTS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |