I GRANT you that our fate is terrible, Bitter as gall. What then? Will lamentation, Childish complaint, everlasting wailings, Grief, groans, despair, help to amend our doom? Glance o'er the world -- the world is full of pain Akin to ours. If some dark spirit touched Our vision to miraculous clearness, sights Would meet our eyes, at which the coldest heart Might weep blood-tears; there's not a moment passes Which doth not bear its load of agonies Out to the dim Eternity beyond; The primal curse of earth, with heavier weight, Descends on special victims; yet, bethink you, All sorrow hath its bounds, o'er which there stands That friend of misery, gentle-hearted Death. Balms of oblivion holds he, and the realm Wherein he rules hath murmurous caves of sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL by FRANCIS BRET HARTE MEN AND BOYS by KARL THEODORE KORNER CHRISTMAS BELLS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE CLIFF SWALLOWS by DEBRA NYSTROM THE SPELL OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE |