Inexorable

William Henry Drummond

    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.

Next 10 Poems

• William Henry Drummond : Invocation
• William Henry Drummond : Madrigal
• William Henry Drummond : Saint John Baptist
• William Henry Drummond : Spring Bereaved I
• William Henry Drummond : Spring Bereaved Ii
• William Henry Drummond : Spring Bereaved Iii
• William Henry Drummond : Summons To Love
• William Henry Drummond : This Life Which Seems So Fair
• William Henry Drummond : To His Lute
• William Henry Drummond : To The Nightingale

Previous 10 Poems

• William Henry Drummond : Her Passing
• William Henry Drummond : Doth Then The World Go Thus?
• William Henry Drummond : Change Should Breed Change
• William Henry Drummond : A Lament
• Michael Drayton : To The Virginian Voyage
• Michael Drayton : To The Reader Of These Sonnets
• Michael Drayton : To His Coy Love
• Michael Drayton : The Parting
• Michael Drayton : The Battle Of Agincourt
• Michael Drayton : Sonnet Xxxviii: Sitting Alone, Love