I 'll not confer with Sorrow Till to-morrow But Joy shall have her way This very day Ho, eglantine and cresses For her tresses! - Let Care, the beggar, wait Outside the gate. Tears if you will -but after Mirth and laughter Then, folded hands on breast And endless rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 4. THE LOTTERY GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE YOUNG MYSTIC by LOUIS UNTERMEYER ON MUSIC by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE INCENSE BURNER by ABUS SALT BEAUTIFUL EYES by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS FATA MORGANA by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS TO MRS -- RETURNING FINE HYACINTH PLANT AFTER BLOOM IS OVER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |