MY God, how many times ere I be dead Must I the bitterness of dying know? How often like a corpse upon my bed Compose me and surrender me and so Thro' hateful hours and ill-remembered Between the twilight and the twilight go By visions bodiless obscurely led Thro' many a wild enormity of woe? And yet I know not but that this is worst When with that light, the feeble and the first, I start and gaze into the world again, And gazing find it as of old accurst And grey and blinded with the stormy burst And blank appalling solitude of rain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHAM TOWERS AT DA NANG by KAREN SWENSON KILLED IN ACTION by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE DINKEY-BIRD by EUGENE FIELD THE YOUNG GLASS-STAINER by THOMAS HARDY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 74. ST. LUKE THE PAINTER (OLD & NEW ART) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI LINES COMPOSED AT GRASMERE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A PIPE OF TOBACCO (MR. POPE'S STYLE IMITATED) by ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE |