FAREWELL, thou dimpled cherub, Joy, Thou rose-crown'd ever-smiling boy, Wont thy sister Hope to lead, To dance along the primrose mead! No more, bereft of happy hours, I seek your lute-resounding bow'rs, But to yon ruin'd tow'r repair, To meet the god of groans, Despair; Who, on that ivy-darken'd ground, Still takes at eve his silent round, Or sits yon new-made grave beside, Where lies a frantic suicide: While lab'ring sighs my heart-strings break, Thus to the sullen power I speak: "Haste with thy poison'd dagger, haste, To pierce this sorrow-laden breast! Or lead me, at the dead of night, To some sea-beat mountain's height, Whence with headlong haste I'll leap To the dark bosom of the deep; Or show me, far from human eye, Some cave to muse in, starve, and die; No weeping friend or brother near, My last, fond, falt'ring words to hear!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN IT JUST SO HAPPENS by JAMES GALVIN SPRINGTIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SENRYU: BLIND DATE by TIMOTHY LIU AT SAGAMORE HILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |