Three sorrows, three invisible swords are nailed In this cold heart, and all my hopes have failed. First the gods perished to whom men had prayed Cradled in fancy; them the truth betrayed, Then time, the world, and ah! the fangs of lust Embittered Love, and dragged it in the dust. Last my sad country, 'mid a rabble's jeers, Suffered the outrage of the treacherous years. ||Now|| too, high-meted soul, tho' stricken, proud Enough for silence and the common shroud. Bow; meet contented the ignoble odds That vanquished Spain and Friendship and the Gods. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST ITALIAN PICTURES: THE COSTA SAN GIORGIO by MINA LOY SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: COLUMBUS CHENEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LEAVES OF A MAGAZINE by MARIANNE MOORE BACKGROUND AND DESIGN by KAREN SWENSON |