THOU who at will canst fling Thine insolent alms or bid me pine defrauded, -- Compared to Sorrow thou'rt a shallow thing, Joy, the much lauded. Ah, with pale promise, thou Awhile perhaps mayst hoodwink and deceive me, But it is Sorrow that hath kept her vow Never to leave me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM by RICHARD ALDINGTON DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA A SWEET LULLABY by NICHOLAS BRETON TWO FUSILIERS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES EPITAPH ON THOMAS CLERE, SURREY'S FAITHFUL FRIEND AND FOLLOWER by HENRY HOWARD ALMS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A STRANGER IN SEYTHOPOLIS by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE GLOW-WORM by VINCENT BOURNE OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 18. ELEGIAC VERSE: THE FIRST EPIGRAM by THOMAS CAMPION |