I CAST this sorrow from me like a crown Of bitter nettles, and unwholesome weeds, Nursed by cold night-dews, from malignant seeds, Ill Fortune sowed, when all the heaven did frown; Its loathsome round I trample deeply down In mire and dust, to burn my brain no more; From off my brow I wipe the trickling gore, While all about me, like keen clarions blown, From breezy dells, and golden heights afar, Their stern @3reveille@1 the wild March winds sound; They wake an answering passion in my soul, Whence, marshalled as brave warriors, taking ground For noblest conflict, freed from doubt or dole, Great thoughts uprising front Hope's morning star! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRINGED GENTIAN by EMILY DICKINSON HER LETTER by FRANCIS BRET HARTE RETURN OF SPRING by PIERRE DE RONSARD WINTER: MY SECRET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DOOMSDAY: TREASURES IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) |