I'VE done with all the world can give, Whate'er its kind or measure. (O Christ! what paltry lives we live If toil be lord, or pleasure!). Alas! @3I@1 only yearn for sleep, Calm rest for fevered riot -- The sacred sleep, the shadows deep, Of death's majestic quiet. I've done with all our earth-life lends -- False hopes and wild ambitions, Brilliant beginnings, futile ends, And long-postponed fruitions, Those hollow shows dissembling truth, Vain myths that mock the real, The dreary wrecks of peace and youth Above a crushed ideal. I've done with heavenly dreams that wane At touch of earth-born dawnings, With fervid passion, useless pain, Brave aims and dim forewarnings; I've done with alien tears or smiles, Past days and vague to-morrows; I've done with earth's unhallowed wiles, Brief joys and helpless sorrows. I've done with compacts sealed in dust, Dull cares that overweighed me, With promise of the Judas-trust, That, while it kissed, betrayed me; With @3all@1 save love, whose matchless face Midmost a life's undoing Smiles in its tender angel's grace To sanctify the ruin. I've done with all beneath the stars, O world! so wanly fleeting! How long against time's ruthless bars Have the soul's wings been beating, Till even the soul but yearns for sleep, Calm rest for fevered riot -- The sacred sleep, the shadows deep, Of death's majestic quiet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HITS AND RUNS by CARL SANDBURG OF MY DEAR SON [GERVASE BEAUMONT] by JOHN BEAUMONT BINSEY POPLARS (FELLED 1879) by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ON A PORTRAIT by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ASPIRATIONS: 8 by MATHILDE BLIND A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |