How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that repose to say 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!' The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, As if by some instinct the wretch did know His rider loved not speed, being made from thee: The bloody spur cannot provoke him on That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide; Which heavily he answers with a groan, More sharp to me than spurring to his side; For that same groan doth put this in my mind; My grief lies onward and my joy behind. 51 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHURCH WINDOWS by GEORGE HERBERT TO HAFIZ by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH RHENISH AUTUMN; TO TOUSSAINT LUCA by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE MY WINTER ROSE by ALFRED AUSTIN THE REEDS by KONSTANTIN DMITRIYEVICH BALMONT A MORNING WALK by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN APRIL ORANGE BLOSSOMS by THOMAS CASEY |