NOT ere the bitter herb we taste, Which ages thought of happy times, To plant us in a weeping waste, Rings with our fellows this one heart Accordant chimes. When I had shed my glad year's leaf, I did believe I stood alone, Till that great company of Grief Taught me to know this craving heart For not my own. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 129 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE MICHAEL; A PASTORAL POEM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A LULLABY by THOMALLY HOLBECH ANDERSON TO DR. AIKIN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD STANZAS, OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF A RELATIVE ABROAD by BERNARD BARTON TO HIS DEAR FRIEND THOMAS RANDOLPH, ON HIS COMEDY 'THE JEALOUS LOVERS' by RICHARD BENEFIELD HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 13 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |