What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears, Still losing when I saw myself to win! What wretched errors hath my heart committed, Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted In the distraction of this madding fever! O benefit of ill! now I find true That better is by evil still made better; And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. So I return rebuked to my content And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROSPECT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY THE BABYLONIAN HORDES by ISAAC ROSENBERG RHAPSODY by MARTIN DONISTHORPE ARMSTRONG EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS A MOTH FOUND ON THE FLOOR by EDNA M. BECKER |