Desire to sorrow doth me constrain, Daily increasing my smart and pain. I see there is no remedy plain But patience. Despair doth put himself in press To cause my sorrows to increase. I trust at last that it will cease By patience. Good hope doth bid me be content And not myself thus to torment, Promising me my whole intent Through patience. I will not strive against the tide For well I see, who doth abide, That sufferance to heart's desire is guide By patience. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PICKING AND CHOOSING by MARIANNE MOORE HORATIUS [AT THE BRIDGE], FR. LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY TO FOREIGN LANDS by WALT WHITMAN HYMN OF FREEDDOM by MICHAEL JOSEPH BARRY |