'ONE sorrow more? I thought the tale complete.' -- He bore amiss who grudges what he bore: Stretch out thy hands and urge thy feet to meet One sorrow more. Yea, make thy count for two or three or four: The kind Physician will not slack to treat His patient while there's rankling in the sore. Bear up in anguish, ease will yet be sweet; Bear up all day, for night has rest in store: Christ bears thy burden with thee, rise and greet One sorrow more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TREKKING THE HILLS OF NORTHERN THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON THE QUANGLE WANGLE'S HAT by EDWARD LEAR BEAT! BEAT! DRUMS! by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 7. TO REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER by MARK AKENSIDE |