From being anxious, or secure, Dead clods of sadnesse, or light squibs of mirth, From thinking, that great courts immure All, or no happinesse, or that this earth Is only for our prison fram'd, Or that thou art covetous To them whom thou lovest, or that they are maim'd From reaching this worlds sweet, who seek thee thus, With all their might, Good Lord deliver us. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RABBI BEN EZRA by ROBERT BROWNING THE RIVER OF LIFE by THOMAS CAMPBELL WHISPERS OF IMMORTALITY by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THYESTES, ACT 2: CHORUS by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA ENOCH ARDEN by ALFRED TENNYSON THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE: CANTO 1 by JAMES THOMSON (1700-1748) DIFFERENT MINDS by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH |