O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
read more

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
Have written strange defeatures in my face.

Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life.

Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life.

My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells read more

My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul

Let me moderate our sorrows. The grief of a man should not
exceed proper bounds, but be in proportion read more

Let me moderate our sorrows. The grief of a man should not
exceed proper bounds, but be in proportion to the blow he has
received.
[Lat., Ponamus nimios gemitus: flagrantior aequo
Non debet dolor esse viri, nec vulnere major.]

Light griefs are communicative, great ones stupefy.
[Lat., Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent.]

Light griefs are communicative, great ones stupefy.
[Lat., Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent.]

On me, on me
Time and change can heap no more!
The painful past with blighting grief
read more

On me, on me
Time and change can heap no more!
The painful past with blighting grief
Hath left my heart a withered leaf.
Time and change can do no more.

Go not for every grief to the physician, nor for every quarrel to the lawyer, nor for every thirst to read more

Go not for every grief to the physician, nor for every quarrel to the lawyer, nor for every thirst to the pot.

Great grief does not of itself put an end itself.
[Lat., Magnus sibi ipse non facit finem dolor.]

Great grief does not of itself put an end itself.
[Lat., Magnus sibi ipse non facit finem dolor.]

This grief is crowned with consolation, you old smock brings
forth a new petticoat, and indeed the tears live read more

This grief is crowned with consolation, you old smock brings
forth a new petticoat, and indeed the tears live in an onion that
should water this sorrow.