LO, I am weary of all, Of men and their love and their hate; I have been long enough Life's thrall And the toy of a tyrant Fate. I would have nothing but rest, I would not struggle again; Take me now to thy breast, Earth, sweet mother of men. Hide me and let me sleep; Give me a lonely tomb So close and so dark and so deep I shall hear no trumpet of doom. There let me lie forgot When the dead at its blast are gone; Give me to hear it not, But only to slumber on. This is the fate I crave, For I look to the end and see If there be not rest in the grave There will never be rest for me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848 by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE AFTER WOMAN by FRANCIS THOMPSON ARMY CORRESPONDENT'S LAST RIDE; FIVE FORKS, APRIL 1, 1865 by GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND NOT DEAD, BUT GONE BEFORE by ANTIPHANES HERMAN; OR, THE BROKEN SPEAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by BERNARD BARTON JOHANNES MILTON, SENEX by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES APPRECIATION by LIDA WILLIAMS BROCKER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. A DREAM OF HUMAN LIFE by EDWARD CARPENTER |