Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONNET: 1, 11, by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN



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SONNET: 1, 11, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: What profits it to me, though here allowed
Last Line: Dull, and like one exhausted with deep sleep.


What profits it to me, though here allowed
Life, sunlight, leisure, if they fail to urge
Me to due motion or myself to merge
With the onward stream, too humble, or too proud?
That find myself not with the popular surge
Washed off and on, or up to higher reefs
Flung with the foremost when the rolling crowd
Hoists like a wave, nor strong to speak aloud.
But standing here, gazing on mine own griefs,
Dark household woe, and wounds that bleed and smart,
With still lips and an outcry in the heart,
Or on from day to day I coldly creep
By summer farms and fields, by stream and steep,
Dull, and like one exhausted with deep sleep.





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