I WOVE myself a golden web, And oh! it shone so bright and fair That I went weaving fearless on, Although my heart lay in its snare. Still weaving on until my life Had light alone from its rich sheen, And all things else, unseen for me, Became as though they had not been. Still weaving, until grief and care Seemed but the myths of legends old, And what had I to do with them!-- So wove I still my web of gold. Ah! what has touched the golden links, That they have grown an iron chain? Oh! cruel fetters round my heart! Oh God! I faint beneath the pain. Woe! for 'twas sorrow's death-cold hand, And I am hers for evermore,-- Woe! for my life has scarce begun, And the youth of my soul is o'er. Woe! for the golden web I wove Dull death alone can burst apart; Woe! for the rust of iron links Eats deep into my aching heart. Ah! how, poor weaver, should I speak, How dare I speak to comfort thee! The knotted web thyself hast wrought Will not unravelled be by me. I can but marvel at its strength, I can but sorrow at thy pain, And I will weave no golden web, So shall I know no deathful chain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RETREAT by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON ON KEATS, WHO DESIRED THAT ON HIS TOMB SHOULD BE INSCRIBED: by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE HOLLY TREE by ROBERT SOUTHEY COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT [JULY, 1491] by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE EN TOUR; A SONG SEQUENCE: 1. THE GARGOYLE by ALBERTA BANCROFT DELIVERANCE by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS TO THE LARK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |