The fancy, which that I have served long, That hath alway been enemy to mine ease, Seemed of late to rue upon my wrong And bad me fly the cause of my misease. And I forthwith did prease out of the throng, That thought by flight my painful heart to please Some other way, till I saw faith more strong. And to myself I said: "Alas, those days In vain were spent, to run the race so long." And with that thought I met my guide, that plain Out of the way wherein I wandered wrong Brought me amids the hills in base Bullayn, Where I am now, as restless to remain, Against my will, full pleased with my pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TAPS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON A YOUNG LADY'S SIXTH ANNIVERSARY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |