Explore Poems GO!

Ilicet

Rating: 2.8

THERE is an end of joy and sorrow;
Peace all day long, all night, all morrow,
But never a time to laugh or weep.
The end is come of pleasant places,
The end of tender words and faces,
The end of all, the poppied sleep.

No place for sound within their hearing,
No room to hope, no time for fearing,
No lips to laugh, no lids for tears.

The old years have run out all their measure;
Read More

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM