Death & Dying
Woe is Me
From The Poetical Works, ed. John Nichol (1875), vol. 1
Far in the cradling sky,
Dawn opes his baby eye,
Then I awake and cry,
Woe is me!
Morn, the young hunter gay,
Chases the shadows gray,
Then I go forth and say,
Woe is me!
Noon! drunk with oil and wine
Tho' not a grief is thine,
Yet shalt thou shake with mine
Woe is me!
Eve kneeleth sad and calm,
Bearing the martyr's palm;
I shriek above her psalm,
Woe is me!
Night, hid in her black hair
From eyes she cannot dare,
Lies loud with fierce despair;
Then I sit silent where
She cries from her dark lair
Woe is me!
Cite this poem
MLA
Dobell, Sydney. “Woe is Me.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/dobell/41/.
Chicago
Dobell, Sydney. “Woe is Me.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/dobell/41/.
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