No grave for woe, yet earth my watery tears devours; Sighs want air, and burnt desires kind pity's showers: Stars hold their fatal course, my joys preventing: The earth, the sea, the air, the fire, the heavens vow my tormenting. Yet still I live, and waste my weary days in groans, And with woful tunes adorn despairing moans. Night still prepares a more displeasing morrow; My day is night, my life my death, and all but sense of sorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WORLD: A CHILD'S SONG by WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS RAIN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON HOPE AND DESPAIR by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE LUMINOUS HANDS OF GOD by ELEANOR WARFIELD KENLY BACON THE NURSE'S STORY: THE HAND OF GLORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |