There is no rest where weary mortals dwell, There is no peace where sorrow bides the time, Save in love's boundless arms, where rise and swell Life's fairest moments into hours sublime. Here where men, weeping, spend a passing day, See one grand sun-set and its after-glow, Feel a brief passion, then the heart's decay, God rest me as I stand beneath the blow. Send to my heart a purging flame of love, Suaging my tears with its consuming fire, Whelm me with passion that shall never rove Save to the beckon of my love's desire. For love I crave tho follows grief amain— A fleeting moment from an hour of pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SCILLA'S METAMORPHOSIS: MELANCHOLY by THOMAS LODGE WEARINESS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW REBEL COLOR-BEARERS AT SHILOH by HERMAN MELVILLE PHANTOM OF LIFE by VIOLET MCKAY BALL THE PURSUIT by GAMALIEL BRADFORD THE GUERRILLA by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FOURTH ECLOGUE. TO MR. THOMAS MANWOOD by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |