HOW I grieve that I am well! All my health was in my sickness; Go then, Destiny, and tell Very death is in this quickness. Such a fate rules over me, That I glory when I languish, And do bless the remedy That doth feed, not quench my anguish. 'Twas a gentle warmth that ceas'd In the vizard of a fever; But I fear, now I am eas'd, All the flames, since I must leave her. Joys, though wither'd, circled me, When unto her voice inured, Like those who by harmony Only can be throughly cured. Sweet, sure, was that malady, Whilst the pleasant angel hover'd, Which ceasing, they are all, as I, Angry that they are recover'd. And as men in hospitals, That are maim'd, are lodg'd and dined; But when once their danger falls, Ah, th' are healed to be pined! Fainting so, I might before Sometime have the leave to hand her, But lusty, am beat out of door, And for love compell'd to wander. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BETRAND AND GOURGAUD TALK OVER OLD TIMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE SELF-SEEKER by ROBERT FROST AN APRIL MORNING by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE HWOMESTEAD A-VELL INTO HAND by WILLIAM BARNES LOVE IN THE DAWN by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PICTOR IGNOTUS by ROBERT BROWNING |