My pain, still smothered in my grieved breast
Seeks for some ease, yet cannot passage find
To be discharged of this unwelcome guest;
When most I strive, more fast his burdens bind,
Like to a ship, on Goodwins cast by wind
The more she strives more deep in sand is pressed
Till she be lost; so am I, in this kind
Sunk and devoured, and swallowed by unrest,
Lost, shipwracked, spoiled, debarred of smallest hope
Nothing of pleasure left; save thoughts have scope,
Which wander may. Go then, my thoughts, and cry
Hope's perished, Love tempest-beaten, Joy lost:
Killing Despair hath all these blessings crossed.
Yet Faith still cries, Love will not falsify.
This wasn't part of the reading for British Literature. We were reading Worth's but this one sonnet was not assigned. A pity since it caught my attention. I connect to it and I wished to share it. I want to say what this means for my feelings but I don't know how without sounding like a depressed, defeated, blabbering idiot so I will just leave it at read the final line more carefully for it is more positive (by a bit at least).
I am just in one of those moods where I read something more powerful.
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| An image found on a google search... "a siren's cove" |
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