A Lament by William 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 monarchize:
But he, grim grinning King,
Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise,
Late having decked with beauty's rose his tomb,
Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

by William Drummond

Other poems by 'William Drummond'

This Life Which Seems So Fair

Doth Then The World Go Thus?

Summons To Love

To The Nightingale

To His Lute

Search Poems
e.g. love, marriage, kids

Popular poems this week

In Silence We Left

The Lost Dances of Cranes

The Author to her Book

Summer Evening

The Lesson

To Mæcenas

A chilly Peace infests the Grass

You Fit Into Me

A Commonplace Day

Les Lauriers Sont Coupée