Fixed Idea, A
by: Amy Lowell (1874 - 1925)
What torture lurks within a single thought
When grown too constant, and however kind,
However welcome still, the weary mind
Aches with its presence. Dull remembrance taught
Remembers on unceasingly; unsought
The old delight is with us but to find
That all recurring joy is pain refined,
Become a habit, and we struggle, caught.
You lie upon my heart as on a nest,
Folded in peace, for you can never know
How crushed I am with having you at rest
Heavy upon my life. I love you so
You bind my freedom from its rightful quest.
In mercy lift your drooping wings and go.
|
Bungler, The
To A Friend
Taxi, The
Giver Of Stars, The
Azure And Gold
Winter Ride, A
Little Song, A
Japanese Wood-Carving, A
Behind A Wall
|
