Last night, though I had fifty souls, I had been bankrupt ere the day; And all because this body slight That ill maintained its spirit's light Had made me swear my souls away; Had sent them humming into hell: And all because an ivory mite Was by a nerve-surge pounded, bent, And by fierce lightnings blasted, rent, That made the force of Nature slight. I never heard Love's voice sound harsh, Until it sought to soothe this evil; And when it said -- 'Pray, do not fret: Be patient and -- sure cure -- forget,' I could not help cry out -- 'The Devil!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI A CHRISTMAS FOLK-SONG by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE ON THE SUN COMING OUT IN THE AFTERNOON by HENRY DAVID THOREAU SINCE THOU ART GONE by HENRY VAUGHAN A FAREWELL TO AMERICA, TO MRS. S. W. by PHILLIS WHEATLEY AMY WENTWORTH; FOR WILLIAM BRADFORD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |