Desire to sorrow doth me constrain, Daily increasing my smart and pain. I see there is no remedy plain But patience. Despair doth put himself in press To cause my sorrows to increase. I trust at last that it will cease By patience. Good hope doth bid me be content And not myself thus to torment, Promising me my whole intent Through patience. I will not strive against the tide For well I see, who doth abide, That sufferance to heart's desire is guide By patience. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 14. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF CATHERINE THOMASON by JOHN MILTON DAYS OF THE MONTH by MOTHER GOOSE SONNET by KATHARINE REBECCA ADAMS JIM DALLEY by ALEXANDER ANDERSON HUGH STUART BOYD: HIS DEATH, 1848 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING IN THREE DAYS by ROBERT BROWNING EPITAPH ON A CLEISH SCHOOLMASTER by ROBERT BURNS THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE by ROBERT BURNS THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAME by ROBERT BURNS |