I have a fog that clouds my feeble brain
And wraps all sense in veils through which I see:
I have a mind that wanders dull down dullest lane,
And somewhere in that dull, there's dullest me.
Ah! to sweep away the dross and lift the stone,
To have a perfect mind so clean and bright,
To fetter down the power of this that's flown
And draw down angels dancing through the night.
Yes! I'd sweep my hollow place to victory,
I'd dream and dance beneath the summer's sun:
I'd roam with Gods and lay down my great plea,
And hold discourse on how the stars and heaven run.
Instead, I stare awhile at rooks and call,
And see nothing, and suffer being the wisest fool.
Another rich fool treks to the North Pole or wherever - a short and silly poem about all those Randolph Twykenum-Smythes looking for purpose to their lives
We have both been through so much...
Both good and bad-
We have both been heartbroken
Saving Your Comment
Leave Your Comment
Poems Pedia is a place where you can share poems with others, with a very easy interface that lets you to search and navigate through the several poems categories, send them to your friends, see others feedback and rate them.