WHEREAT erewhile I wept, I laugh; That which I fear'd, I now despise; My victor once, my vassal is; My foe constrain'd, my weal supplies: Thus do I triumph on my foe; I weep at weal, I laugh at woe. My care is cur'd, yet hath no end; Not that I want, but that I have; My charge was change, yet still I stay; I would have less, and yet I crave: Ay me, poor wretch, that thus do live, Constrain'd to take, yet forc'd to give! She whose delights are signs of death, Who, when she smiles, begins to lour, Constant in this, that still she change, Her sweetest gifts time proves but sour: I live in care, cross'd with her guile; Through her I weep, at her I smile. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER A JOURNEY by THOMAS HARDY THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD; DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE BENCH OF BOORS by HERMAN MELVILLE MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION: TO EXCELLENCIES THE LORDS JUSTICES OF IRELAND by JONATHAN SWIFT THE WINGLESS VICTORY by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. |