Our Crosses are no other then the rods, And our Diseases, Vultures of the Gods: Each griefe we feele, that likewise is a Kite Sent forth by them, our flesh to eate, or bite. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YARN OF THE 'NANCY BELL' by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT EPITAPH ON THOMAS CLERE, SURREY'S FAITHFUL FRIEND AND FOLLOWER by HENRY HOWARD A CONSISTENT GIRL by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ON LYNN TERRACE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LAND OF THE GIANTS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET LONG AGO by CLARA EXLINE BOCKOVEN AVELINGLAS by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE PAINTED CUP by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. SO THIN A VEIL by EDWARD CARPENTER |