Here's an end to my art! I must die and I know it, With battle murder at my heart -- Sad death for a poet! Oh my songs never sung, And my plays to darkness blown! I am still so young, so young, And life was my own. Some bad fairy stole The baby I nursed: Was this my pretty little soul, This changeling accursed? To fight and kill is wrong -- To stay at home wronger: Oh soul, little play and song, I may father no longer! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SAD SONG, FR. THE CAPTAIN by JOHN FLETCHER GRASS FINGERS by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE SONNET: 54 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE MAYFLOWERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THAT GENERAL UTILITY RAG, BY OUR OWN IRVING BERLIN by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE FLIGHT OF THE WAR-EAGLE by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER SONG BEFORE SORROW by LOUISE A. BALDWIN A TOAST, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF RODNEY'S VICTORY by ROBERT BURNS |