Merry it is, while the summer last, With birds in song. But now it's on us, the wintry blast And weather strong. Oh! how the night is long! And I, being done so great a wrong, Sorrow and mourn and fast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASPATIA'S SONG, FR. THE MAID'S TRAEGDY by JOHN FLETCHER THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER by THOMAS MOORE WOONE SMILE MWORE by WILLIAM BARNES SPHINX-MONEY by MATHILDE BLIND IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HOW SHALL I BUILD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE LINNET by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN SMYTH, CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |