Headache! thou bane to Pleasure's fairy spell, Thou fiend, thou foe to joy, I know thee well! Beneath thy lash I've writhed for many an hour, -- I hate thee, for I've known, and dread thy power. Even the heathen gods were made to feel The aching torments which thy hand can deal; And Jove, the ideal king of heaven and earth, Owned thy dread power, which called stern Wisdom forth. Would'st thou thus ever bless each aching head, And bid Minerva make the brain her bed, Blessings might then be taught to rise from woe, And Wisdom spring from every throbbing brow. But always the reverse to me, unkind, Folly for ever dogs thee close behind; And from this burning brow, her cap and bell, For ever jingle Wisdom's funeral knell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOMAN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DAY IS DONE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 65. AL-WAJID by EDWIN ARNOLD THE PILGRIM by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LAST MAN: SPEAKER'S MEANING DIMLY DESCRIBED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |