Once could the Morn's first beams, the healthful breeze, All nature charm, and gay was every hour -- But ah! not Music's self, nor fragrant bower Can glad the trembling sense of wan disease. Now that the frequent pangs my frame assail, Now that my sleepless eyes are sunk and dim, And seas of pain seem waving through each limb -- Ah what can all Life's gilded scenes avail? I view the crowd, whom youth and health inspire, Hear the loud laugh, and catch the sportive lay, Then sigh and think -- I too could laugh and play And gaily sport it on the Muse's lyre, Ere Tyrant Pain had chas'd away delight, Ere the wild pulse throbb'd anguish thro' the night! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIFE [AND THE FLOWERS] by GEORGE HERBERT ITALY SWEET TOO! by JOHN KEATS ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE LETTERS by OSCAR WILDE MY SOLITUDE by JAMES R. AGGELES A PORTRAIT by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE OLD BRIDGE by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN |