They love me, and I have not made them happy, (Rush of the wind and river whistles moaning) They love me and I cannot give them peace, (The city shifts in sleep with a low groaning). They love me and I watch their faces aging And growing pinched as the slow winter dawn; I give them nothing but a few sad poems, And life is short and we shall soon be gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RHYTHM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO DANTE by VITTORIO AMEDEO ALFIERI TO ROSAMONDE: A BALADE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER MADRIGAL by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD by BEN JONSON TO A SNOWFLAKE by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE BARTHOLDI STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |