WISE-UNTO-HELL Ecclesiast, Who siev'dst life to the gritted last! This thy sting, thy darkness, Mage -- Cloud upon sun, upon youth age? Now is come a darker thing, And is come a colder sting, Unto us, who find the womb Opes on the courtyard of the tomb. Now in this fuliginous City of flesh our sires for us Darkly built, the sun at prime Is hidden, and betwixt the time Of day and night is variance none, Who know not altern moon and sun; Whose deposed heaven through dungeon-bars Looks down blinded of its stars. Yea, in the days of youth, God wot, Now we say: They please me not. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES ON AN INVITATION TO THE UNITED STATES by THOMAS HARDY THE HARLEM DANCER by CLAUDE MCKAY IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 51 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE JACOBITE ON TOWER HILL by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY TO A LOCOMOTIVE IN WINTER by WALT WHITMAN |