METHOUGHT the icy hand of Time had chilled The gushing fount of passion in my breast -- Methought that Reason's power, for aye, had stilled The bitter struggles of my heart's unrest. Cold, calm, and self-possessing, I had deemed In quiet now to view life slip away -- Forgetting much that once my soul had dreamed, And lengthening out in peace my little day. Safe in indifference, I had vainly hoped To scorn the sympathy I might not share, And little thought mine own hand would have oped My bosom's portal to returning care. How burns the blush of shame upon my cheek -- How bends to earth in grief my haughty brow, When thus I find myself disarmed and weak Before the ideal shapes that haunt me now! Oh God! how long, misled by erring thought, Shall I grope darkly on in feeling's maze? When shall I be by Time's sad lessons taught, And reach my home of rest by quiet ways? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARIANNE MOORE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO DANTE by VITTORIO AMEDEO ALFIERI THE LOST LEADER by ROBERT BROWNING THE SINGER IN THE PRISON by WALT WHITMAN SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 5 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO LORD ZOUCH by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |