He is not dead that sometime hath a fall, The sonne retorneth that was under the cloud, And when fortune hath spitt oute all her gall, I trust good luck to me shall be allowed. For I have sene a shipp into heaven fall After the storme hath broke boeth mast and shrowed, And eke the willowe that stoppeth with the wind Doeth ryse again and greater wode doeth bind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BURNING DAWN by HAYDEN CARRUTH SAPPHIC SUICIDE NOTE by JAMES GALVIN THE GIANTS OF HISTORY by JAMES GALVIN THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: OAKS TUTT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: REV. LEMUEL WILEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |