I WAKE and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went! And more must, in yet longer light's delay. With witness I speak this. But where I say Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent To dearest him that lives alas! away. I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me; Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse. Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see The lost are like this, and their scourge to be As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHELL TO THE PEARL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE CATS' MONTH by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS AT A LUNAR ECLIPSE by THOMAS HARDY SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND by THOMAS MOORE ANTHEM FOR DOOMED YOUTH by WILFRED OWEN SONNET PREFIXED TO 'NENNIO, OR A TREATISE OF NOBILITY' by EDMUND SPENSER |