OUR life is full of sighing, Our life, which is so brief; We cloud the moments flying, With trouble, pain, and grief. Still looking to the morrow, We disregard to-day, And ever trouble borrow, As life speeds fast away. And yet, nor grief, nor sadness, Composes all our lot,— Woe mingles still with gladness, Though oft we see it not. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLAD OF THE GOODLY FERE by EZRA POUND THE CENCI; A TRAGEDY: ACTS 4-5 by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY LILIES: 1. THE GREAT WAVE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) RECOGNITION by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE A CAROL FOR CHRISTMAS DAY BEFORE DAWN by GORDON BOTTOMLEY A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 6 by THOMAS CAMPION |