THOU who at will canst fling Thine insolent alms or bid me pine defrauded, -- Compared to Sorrow thou'rt a shallow thing, Joy, the much lauded. Ah, with pale promise, thou Awhile perhaps mayst hoodwink and deceive me, But it is Sorrow that hath kept her vow Never to leave me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR REMEMBERING HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU by JAMES GALVIN THE BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS A NYMPH'S PASSION by BEN JONSON THE TWO OLD BACHELORS by EDWARD LEAR TO A SQUIRREL AT KYLE-NA-NO by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 6. THE WANDERING ONE MAKES MUSIC by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS |