Come my heart! come my head In sighs and tears! 'Tis now, since you have lain thus dead Some twenty years; Awake, awake, Some pity take Upon yourselves -- Who never wake to groan, nor weep, Shall be sentenced for their sleep. 2 Do but see your sad estate, How many sands Have left us, while we careless sate With folded hands; What stock of nights, Of days and years In silent flights Stole by our ears, How ill have we ourselves bestowed Whose suns are all set in a cloud? 3 Yet, come, and let's peruse them all; And as we pass, What sins on every minute fall Score on the glass; Then weigh and rate Their heavy state Until The glass with tears you fill; That done, we shall be safe and good, Those beasts were clean, that chewed the cud. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE GARDEN (1) by EMILY DICKINSON EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: 'EQUALITY OF SACRIFICE' by RUDYARD KIPLING THE ARMADA; A FRAGMENT by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY RICH AND POOR; OR, SAINT AND SINNER by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK AS FROM THE PAST -- by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 15 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE MODERN SAINT by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 18. ELEGIAC VERSE: THE FIRST EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |