I HAVE lost my singing-voice; My heyday's over. No more I lilt my cares and joys, But keep them under cover. My heyday's gone: I sit and look on: Life rushes by with a sob and a moan. Wherefore should I care to tell The pang that rends me? If it leave me, all is well; And if it last, it ends me. The tears that rise And prick in mine eyes Drop for a world full of hunger and sighs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST CHRYSANTHEMUM by THOMAS HARDY THE PHILOSOPHER TOAD by REBECCA S. REED NICHOLS A FAREWELL TO LONDON IN THE YEAR 1715 by ALEXANDER POPE THE NEWLY WEDDED by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 77. SOUL'S BEAUTY by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI DESERT WIFE by NELLIE COOLEY ALDER |