The wind suffers of blowing. The sea suffers of water, And fire suffers of burning. And I of a living name. As stone suffers of stoniness, As light of its shiningness, As birds of their wingedness, So I of my whoness. And what the cure of all this? What the not and not suffering? What the better and later of this? What the more me of me? How for the pain-world to be More world and no pain? How for the old rain to fall More wet and more dry? How for the willful blood to run More salt-red and sweet-white? And how for me in my actualness To more shriek and smile? But no other miracles, By the same knowing poison, By an improved anguish, By my further dying. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE GIRL LOST, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE BOSTON EVENING TRANSCRIPT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT TO R. B. by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS FOR THE BED AT KELMSCOTT by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) QUATORZAINS: 7. ANOTHER FANTASTIC SIMILE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE WEDDING FEAST: 2 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: KING SOLOMON by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |