Derrick Hubert Schnabel
Thoughts In The Style Of Pope - Poem by Derrick Hubert Schnabel
thoughts in the style of pope
i know how little can be known
i see all others’ faults and feel my own;
my own strange purpose to find
or make an enemy of mankind?
why is the external for that internal given?
am i not a God and earth my only heaven?
i, a virtuous son, am ill at ease
the lustful “Father” gave me a dire disease.
distracted by what others feel, what others think,
all pleasures sicken, all triumphs sink;
my right too rigid hardens into wrong
for the strong too weak, for the weak too strong.
all forms that die, other forms supply,
so i can catch that final breath, and die.
Comments about Thoughts In The Style Of Pope by Derrick Hubert Schnabel
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You