MY thoughts hold mortal strife; I do detest my life, And with lamenting cries Peace to my soul to bring Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise: -- But he, grim-grinning King, Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR THE BAPTIST by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN EDEN BOWER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI A CHARACTER OF JOHN MORT by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD CROSS AND THRONE by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR TO AN UNSEEN BIRD by KATHLEEN REA BRAID |