When my abode's prefixed time is spent, My cruell fayre streight bids me wend my way: But then from heaven most hideous stormes are sent, As willing me against her will to stay. Whom then shall I, or heaven or her, obay? The heavens know best what is the best for me: But as she will, whose will my life doth sway, My lower heaven, so it perforce must bee. But ye high hevens, that all this sorowe see, Sith all your tempests cannot hold me backe, Aswage your stormes, or else both you and she Will both together me too sorely wrack. Enough it is for one man to sustaine The stormes which she alone on me doth raine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTLEY: THE GHOST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 5. THE STEVEDORES by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER A THUNDERSTORM IN TOWN by THOMAS HARDY I AM THE PEOPLE, THE MOB by CARL SANDBURG IN THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH; 1677 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE LOST GODS ABIDING by WILLIAM ROSE BENET NOW OR NEVER by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN OUR SCARLET KING by HAROLD MARTIN BOWMAN THREE MINUS ONE (REFRAIN SUGGESTED BY DR. RICHARD HOFFMAN) by BERTON BRALEY |