WOUNDED I sing, tormented I indite, Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest. Sorrow hath chang'd its note: such is His will Who changeth all things as him pleaseth best. For well he knows, if but one grief and smart Among my many had his full career, Sure it would carrie with it ev'n my heart, And both would runne until they found a bier To fetch the bodie; both being due to grief. But he hath spoil'd the race; and giv'n to anguish One of Joyes coats, ticing it with relief To linger in me, and together languish. I live to shew His power who once did bring My joyes to weep, and now my griefs to sing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY LOVE'S GUARDIAN ANGEL by WILLIAM BARNES THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 11. THE LOVE-LETTER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 54. LOVE'S FATALITY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI LINES ON THE MONUMENT OF GIUSEPPE MAZZINI by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE MAHOGANY TREE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY IN THE HOSPITAL by PATRICK JOHN MCALISTER ANDERSON LINES ON THE DEATH OF PHILIP MEADOWS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO HIS WORSHIPFULL WEL-WILLER, MAISTER EDWARD LEIGH by RICHARD BARNFIELD |