O THORN-CROWNED Sorrow, pitiless and stern, I sit alone with broken heart, my head Low bowed, keeping long vigil with my dead. My soul, unutterably sad, doth yearn Beyond relief in tears -- they only burn My aching eyelids to fall back unshed Upon the throbbing brain like molten lead, Making it frenzied. Shall I ever learn To face you fearlessly, as by my door You stand with haunting eyes and death-damp hair, Through the night-watches, whispering solemnly, "Behold, I am thy guest forevermore." It chills my soul to know that you are there. Great God, have mercy on my misery! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OF MAN'S MORTALITY by SIMON WASTELL FIDELITY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH SORROWS AND CONSOLATIONS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE COMET by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |