Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill: Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BATTLE BALLAD TO GENERAL J.E. JOHNSTON by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 32. AL-KHABIR by EDWIN ARNOLD SOLILOQUIES OF A SMALL-TOWN TAXI-DRIVER: ON THE EMOTIONS by EDGAR BARRATT VERSES FROM THE 'ANNALIA DUBRENSIA' by WILLIAM BASSE A VALENTINE by WARREN K. BILLINGS NIGHT AND MORNING SONGS: 14. RING-DOVE SONG by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |