I am weary at heart, yet not weary with sorrow, nor weary with pain; I would that an eager sorrow returned to me out of the deep; I could fold my hands in the morning, lie down on my bed again: O Sorrow, angel of Joy, re-awaken my heart from its sleep! I am wearier than the old, when they sit and smile in the sun, Dreaming of sorrowful things, grown happy and dim to their sight; But I dream in the morning, my daylight is over, my day's work done I am old at heart, for my sorrow is sleepy, and nods before night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABU SALAMMAMM - A SONG OF EMPIRE by EZRA POUND THE DEATH OF AUTUMN by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY BEAUTIFUL WOMEN by WALT WHITMAN LINES TO A TEAPOT by JOANNA BAILLIE THE RECRUITING SERGEANT; A MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT: AIR by ISAAC BICKERSTAFFE |