He Cries Out Against Love
There are three fine devils eating my heart-- They left me, my grief! without a thing; Sickness wrought, and Love wrought, And an empty pocket, my ruin and my woe. Poverty left me without a shirt, Barefooted, barelegged, without any covering; Sickness left me with my head weak And my body miserable, an ugly thing. Love left me like a coal upon the floor, Like a half-burned sod that is never put out. Worse than the cough, worse than the fever itself, Worse than any curse at all under the sun, Worse than the great poverty Is the devil that is called "Love" by the people. And if I were in my young youth again I would not take, or give, or ask for a kiss!
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"There are three fine devils eating my heart--..."
Isabella Augusta, Lady Gregory's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "He Cries Out Against Love"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...