AH, gone the days when for undying kindness I still could render you undying song! You yet can give, but I can give no more; Fate, in her extreme blindness, Has wrought me so great wrong. I am left poor indeed; Gone is my sole and amends-making store, And I am needy with a double need. Behold that I am like a fountained nymph, Lacking her customed lymph, The longing parched in stone upon her mouth, Unwatered of its ancient plenty. She (Remembering her irrevocable streams), A Thirst made marble, sits perpetually With sundered lips of still-memorial drouth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AUX ITALIENS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON COMRADE JESUS by SARAH NORCLIFFE CLEGHORN CHANNEL FIRING by THOMAS HARDY LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI THE GILLYFLOWER OF GOLD by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) |