I O mother, I am sick of love, I cannot laugh nor lift my head, My bitter dreams have broken me, I would my love were dead. "Drink of the draught I brew for thee, Thou shalt have quiet in its stead." II Where is the silver in the rain, Where is the music in the sea, Where is the bird that sang all day To break my heart with melody? "The night thou badst Love fly away, He hid them all from thee." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HILL ABOVE THE MINE by MALCOLM COWLEY THE FLOWER BOAT by ROBERT FROST STREET CRIES: 6. TO RICHARD WAGNER by SIDNEY LANIER BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK by AMY LOWELL TO DISRAELI ON CONSERVATISM by MARIANNE MOORE THE RIGHT TO GRIEF by CARL SANDBURG ELEGY: THE LAMENT OF EDWARD BLASTOCK; FOR RICHARD ROWLEY by EDITH SITWELL |