Happy in sleep, waking content to languish, Embracing clouds by night, in daytime mourn; All things I loathe save her and mine own anguish, Pleased in my hurt, inured to live forlorn. Nought do I crave but love, death, or my lady, Hoarse with crying mercy, mercy yet my merit; So many vows and prayers ever made I That now at length to yield mere pity were it. But still the Hydra of my cares renewing Revives new sorrows of her fresh disdaining; Still must I go the summer winds pursuing, Finding no end nor period of my paining. Wail all my life, my griefs do touch so nearly, And thus I live, because I love her dearly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON BOARD THE '76; WRITTEN FOR BRYANT'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL ARCADIA: SESTINA by PHILIP SIDNEY A MORNING HYMN by CHARLES WESLEY PASSAGE TO INDIA by WALT WHITMAN INSCRIPTIONS: 3 by MARK AKENSIDE ANYWHERE OUT OF THE WORLD by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |