Once could the Morn's first beams, the healthful breeze, All nature charm, and gay was every hour -- But ah! not Music's self, nor fragrant bower Can glad the trembling sense of wan disease. Now that the frequent pangs my frame assail, Now that my sleepless eyes are sunk and dim, And seas of pain seem waving through each limb -- Ah what can all Life's gilded scenes avail? I view the crowd, whom youth and health inspire, Hear the loud laugh, and catch the sportive lay, Then sigh and think -- I too could laugh and play And gaily sport it on the Muse's lyre, Ere Tyrant Pain had chas'd away delight, Ere the wild pulse throbb'd anguish thro' the night! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASHURNATSIRPAL III by CARL SANDBURG DESPAIR AND FEAR by EMILY DICKINSON THE BURNING OF THE TEMPLE by ISAAC ROSENBERG PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 10. AL-JABBAR by EDWIN ARNOLD MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE'S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |