I CEASE your spinning, busy Fate; I am weary with the weight And the sorrow of my state! Cut the silken thread in twain; Let the robe be made in vain That is woven from my pain. Let forgetfulness descend, Like the blessing of a friend, On the sorrow I would end. II Bending low, she gently said: "Nor the living nor the dead Are divided from my thread. "Only take the pain I send, It shall teach thee like a friend, To be faithful to the end: "It shall teach thee to be strong, Patient under nameless wrong, Turning discord into song." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A FOOL, A FOUL THING, A DISTRESSFUL LUNATIC by MARIANNE MOORE PRESIDENT GARFIELD by GEORGE SANTAYANA TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS ... by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |