Let me no more in fretful mood arise, Grim as old Death, angered by man or beast, Or gems of truth in varied fool's disguise, And think myself of all the very least. Let me not feel the sting of words or know The unmelodious song dark lips composed Or fling some chaff where grain would better go; Let mercy sleep where malice has reposed. And in those darker hours compel a mood Of gayer frame, of permanence and power, Of deeper root and more substantial food, Granted more beauty for the later flower. Let not tare be dropped among the grain Nor this, my voice, be raised in cold disdain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GLADYS AND HER ISLAND; AN IMPERFECT TALE WITH DOUBTFUL MORAL by JEAN INGELOW ON A MAGAZINE SONNET by RUSSELL HILLARD LOINES PRAYERS OF STEEL by CARL SANDBURG THE BRIDES' TRAGEDY: ACT 3, SCENE 2 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES OF A WINNOWER OF WHEAT TO THE WINDS by JOACHIM DU BELLAY |