I AM ill, not in body, but spirit, Wilt thou, Love, sing a soft melody? For my soul is all eager to hear it, Sing a song of the winds and the sea; Sweet music was meant for the night-time As balm to the heart that is weary; Sing a little love-song with a light rhyme And the world will no longer be dreary. I am ill with the fever of living, Not in body, but sick in my soul; Sing a short, tender song of thanksgiving To the Father who knoweth the goal; For thou mayest, Love, be a physician Who will bring a surcease to my sorrow — Sweet music is such a magician, I will be a well man by to-morrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 9 by THOMAS CAMPION STANZAS; HOOD'S LAST POEM by THOMAS HOOD ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 90 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE SONG OF THE CAMP by BAYARD TAYLOR ANOTHER REAPER by WILLIAM H. ARMSTRONG III TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848, CONTINUED by MATTHEW ARNOLD |