What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted
In the distraction of this madding fever!
O benefit of ill! now I find true
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebuked to my content
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.
William Shakespeare's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Sonnet CXIX by William Shakespeare )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- WH Auden
William Ernest Henley
(1849 - 1902)
(9 November 1928 – 4 October 1974)
- Francis Duggan
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1930 - 1998)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963)
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