Those things I said about my steadfast peace Are sometimes true, but not forever so. On patience I have but a fitful lease When every rowel makes my fever grow. Renouncing thee is labeled high and fine, I better know it to be weak and base, A hair-shirt, self-inflicted anodyne From one who fears the hazards of the chase. So my resolve, to this fierce autumn gale I do consign, regarding well its worth, Like Rembrandt-colored leaf to swirl and sail, Unmindful of the tree which gave it birth, -- What do I care for wisdom or for pain, So long as I may kiss thee once again? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RETROSPECTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON I WOULD LIVE IN YOUR LOVE by SARA TEASDALE MONOLOGUE FROM A MATTRESS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER NEEDLE THREADER IN NEED OF A NEEDLE by DARA WIER SPRING STORM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO A SOLITARY DISCIPLE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |