Tell me not that death of grief Is the only sure relief. Tell me not that hope when dead Leaves a void that nought can fill, Gnawings that may not be fed. Tell me not there is no skill That can bind the breaking heart, That can soothe the bitter smart, When we find ourselves betrayed, When we find ourselves forsaken, By those for whom we would have laid Our young lives down, nor wished to waken. Say not that life is to all But a gaily coloured pall, Hiding with its deceitful glow The hearts that break beneath it, Engulphing as they anguished flow The scalding tears that seethe it. Say not, vain this world's turmoil, Vain its trouble and its toil, All its hopes and fears are vain, Long, unmitigated pain. What though we should be deceived By the friend that we love best? All in this world have been grieved, Yet many have found rest. Our present life is as the night, Our future as the morning light: Surely the night will pass away, And surely will uprise the day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAPTAIN; AFTER READING HENLEY'S INVICTUS by DOROTHEA DAY TO DR. AIKIN ON HIS COMPLAINING THAT SHE NEGLECTED HIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE WANDERING JEW by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER BEFORE VICKSBURG by GEORGE HENRY BOKER THE NEW VICAR OF BRAY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON BALLADE D'AUJOURD'HUI by COATES CHAPMAN |