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Inexorable

MY thoughts hold mortal strife;
   I do detest my life,
   And with lamenting cries
   Peace to my soul to bring
Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise:
   --But he, grim-grinning King,
Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise,
Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb,
Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

William Henry Drummond

Read poems about / on: rose, peace, beauty, life

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10/11/2008 2:46:46 AM. You Are Here: Inexorable by William Henry Drummond