Classic Poem

By the long sojourning
That I have made with grief,
I am quite changed, you see; —
If I weep, 'tis for glee;
I smile at a sad thing;
Despair is my relief.

Good hap makes me afraid;
Ruin seems rest and shade;
In May the year is old;
With friends I am ill at ease;
Among foes I find peace;
At noonday I feel cold.
The thing that strengthens others, frightens me.
If I am grieved, I sing;
I chafe at comforting;
Ill fortune makes me smile exultingly.

And yet, though all my days are thus, — despite
A shaken mind, and eyes
Which see by contraries, —
I know that without wings is an ill flight.