My spirit is too weak - mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagin'd pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship, tells me I must die Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky. Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep That I have not the cloudy winds to keep, Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye. Such dim-conceived glories of the brain Bring round the heart an undescribable feud; So do these wonders a most dizzy pain, That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude Wasting of old Time - with a billowy main - A sun - a shadow of a magnitude. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOUND OF THE SEA; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 82 by ALFRED TENNYSON AUTUMN; WRITTEN IN THE GROUNDS OF MARTIN COLE, ESQ. by BERNARD BARTON VIOLIN AND VIOLA by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 4 by THOMAS CAMPION TO CELIA, UPON LOVE'S UBIQUITY by THOMAS CAREW |