I sometimes wonder what my life doth mean Now you are gone; the long, bright days, the nights Of silence, the vicissitudes, the sights, The intrusive sounds, the dull, continuous scene -- It only minds me of the might-have-been, And in itself a taper is that lights Its own dark solitude: my spirit fights In vain to pierce the veil and look within. The fountain of my tears is sealed and dry; I do not grieve; my laughter is a jest; My prayers an arid bitterness; each sigh The heedless habit of a tired breast. My heart is dead; and when I come to die, Only to think of you no more were best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NON SUM QUALIS ERAM BONAE SUB REGNO CYNARAE by ERNEST CHRISTOPHER DOWSON PATIENCE by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE TOM MOONEY by WILLIAM ELLERY LEONARD THE INCHCAPE ROCK by ROBERT SOUTHEY ENDURANCE by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN A LIFE IN THE COUNTRY (STANZAS FOR MUSIC) by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: A SQUIRE SPEAKS by THOMAS CAMPION |