O life, now that I am no longer mournful For high hopes slaughtered by your treachery; Am no more bitter; never, never scornful Of bitter mocking scorn you thrust at me: My eyes that were once wistful, once defiant, Once joyous, life! once dreamy—ah, no more! Yet I dare ask it: grant them, buffoon tyrant, One careless hour by a kindly shore. O death, it seems just yesterday that fleeing From constant haunting dread of your pursuit, With blood-shot wild eyes fearful and unseeing I sought a nook to hide my worldly loot: Reclining, now, within a scented bower My tortured bones beg to be torn apart; But grant me, death, at least one peaceful hour To weep the weary torments of my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR G. by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON TO MY FIRST LOVE, MY MOTHER by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI WITH MY CIGAR by JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 69. AL-MAKUTADIR by EDWIN ARNOLD EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 16. CUPID HIMSELF STUNG by PHILIP AYRES |