Dear God! there is no sadder fate in life, Than to be burdened so that you can not Sit down contented with the common lot Of happy mother and devoted wife. To feel your brain wild and your bosom rife With all the sea's commotion; to be fraught With fires and frenzies which you have not sought, And weighed down with the wide world's weary strife. To feel a fever alway in your breast, To lean and hear half in affright, half shame, A loud-voiced public boldly mouth your name, To reap your hard-sown harvest in unrest, And know, however great your meed of fame, You are but a weak woman at the best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CALIBAN UPON SETEBOS; OR, NATURAL THEOLOGY IN THE ISLAND by ROBERT BROWNING CINQUAIN: NIGHT WINDS by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 5. THE STEVEDORES by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER SAILING BEYOND SEAS (OLD STYLE) by JEAN INGELOW ON MUSIC by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR SONNET: 18 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE (WASHINGTON CITY, 1865) by WALT WHITMAN |