Like Hermit Poor

Like hermit poor in pensive place obscure
  I mean to spend my days of endless doubt,
To wail such woes as time cannot recure,
  Where nought but love shall ever find me out.
And at my gates despair shall linger still,
To let in death when love and fortune will.

A gown of grief my body shall attire,
  And broken hope shall be my strength and stay;
And late repentance, linked with long desire,
  Shall be the couch whereon my limbs I’ll lay.
And at my gates despair shall linger still,
To let in death when love and fortune will.

My food shall be of care and sorrow made;
  My drink nought else but tears fallen from mine eyes;
And for my light, in such obscured shade,
  The flames may serve which from my heart arise.
And at my gates despair shall linger still,
To let in death when love and fortune will.

– Walter Raleigh, 16th century

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