LO, to-night Pity lords it over Pain; Pain, who banished pity quite, Tribute of your tears to gain. Now to mirth, Every little tender string, From the ruder winds of earth Pleasure folds, and sets to sing. Lightly she Trifles care and thought away. Lightly? Yes.—But foolishly?— Let your sleeping sorrow say. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH PENETRANT by CONRAD AIKEN THE RHINOCEROS by HILAIRE BELLOC BEARS AT RASPBERRY TIME by HAYDEN CARRUTH DOMESDAY BOOK: THE JURY DELIBERATES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON AN UNFINISHED STATUE BY MICHAEL ANGELO by GEORGE SANTAYANA GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: ST. CLOUD, MINNESOTA by KAREN SWENSON |