Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments By Frederic W. H. Myers: Edited by his Wife Eveleen Myers |
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![]() | I. |
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WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING |
![]() | II. |
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![]() | Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments | ![]() |
211
WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING
My God, how many times ere I be deadMust I the bitterness of dying know?
How often like a corpse upon my bed
Compose me and surrender me and so
Thro' hateful hours and ill-remembered
Between the twilight and the twilight go
By visions bodiless obscurely led
Thro' many a wild enormity of woe?
And yet I know not but that this is worst
When with that light, the feeble and the first,
I start and gaze into the world again,
And gazing find it as of old accurst
And grey and blinded with the stormy burst
And blank appalling solitude of rain.
![]() | Collected Poems: With Autobiographical and Critical Fragments | ![]() |