Dewdrops are the gems of the morning, But the tears of mournful eve: Where no hope is, life's a warning That only serves to make us grave In our old age, Whose bruised wings quarrel with the bars of the still narrowing cage -- That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, Like a poor nigh-related guest, Who may not rudely be dismissed; Yet hath outstayed his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile. O! might life cease! and selfless mind, Whose total @3being@1 is @3act,@1 alone remain behind! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUTUMN MORNING AT CAMBRIDGE by FRANCES CROFTS DARWIN CORNFORD ALL THAT'S PAST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE SONNET: YE POETS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE THREE SAD SHEPPARDESSES, GOE TO A LITTLE TABLE, WHERE THEY SINGE by ELIZABETH BRACKLEY |