ALAS! where now doth scorn of fortune hide? And where the heart that still must conqueror be; Where the strong hope of immortality, And that fine flame to common souls denied? Where is the joyance which, at eventide, Through the brown night the silver moon could see, With all the Nine, whenas, in fancy free, I led the dance, some sacred stream beside? Dame Fortune now is mistress of my soul, And this my heart that I would fain control Is grown the thrall of many a fear and sigh. For after-time no more have I desire; No more within I feel that ancient fire, And the sweet Muses turn from me, and fly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MAPLE AND SUMACH by CECIL DAY LEWIS A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY by JOHN DONNE REVELRY OF THE DYING by BARTHOLOMEW DOWLING LAMENT FOR [THE DEATH OF] THOMAS DAVIS by SAMUEL FERGUSON THE SOBBING OF THE BELLS (MIDNIGHT, SEPT. 19-20, 1881) by WALT WHITMAN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 43 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |