The restful place, reviver of my smart, The labors' salve, increasing my sorrow, The body's ease and troubler of my heart, Quieter of mind and my unquiet foe, Forgetter of pain, remembering my woe, The place of sleep, wherein I do but wake Besprent with tears, my bed, I thee forsake. The frost, the snow, may not redress my heat, Nor yet no heat abate my fervent cold. I know nothing to ease my pain's mete: Each care causeth increase by twenty fold. Reviving cares upon my sorrows old, Such overthwart affects they do me make, Besprent with tears, my bed for to forsake. Yet helpeth it not: I find to better ease In bed or out; this most causeth my pain -- Where most I seek how best that I may please, My lost labor, alas, is all in vain. Yet that I gave I cannot call again; No place fro me my grief away can take, Wherefore with tears, my bed, I thee forsake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PALABRAS CARINOSAS (SPANISH AIR) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TRULY GREAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE DESERTED PLANTATION by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR HOMAGE TO QUINTUS SEPTIMIUS FLORENTIS CHRISTIANUS: TROY by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS A BERKSHIRE HOLIDAY by CLIFFORD BAX THE WANDERER'S RETURN by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE MACHINE by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 23. ELEGIAC VERSE: THE SIXTH EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |