Classic Poem

Ah! why from me art thou for ever flown?
Why deaf to every agonising groan?
Not one short month for ten revolving years,
But pain within my frame its sceptre rears!
In each successive month full twelve long days
And tedious nights my sun withdraws his rays!
Leaves me in silent anguish on my bed,
Afflicting all the members in the head;
Through every particle the torture flies,
But centres in the temples, brain, and eyes;
The efforts of the hands and feet are vain,
While bows the head with agonising pain;
While heaves the breast th' unutterable sigh,
And the big tear drops from the languid eye.
For ah! my children want a mother's care,
A husband too should due assistance share;
Myself, for action formed, would fain through life
Be found th' assiduous, valuable wife;
But now, behold, I live unfit for aught;
Inactive half my days except in thought,
And this so vague while torture clogs my hours,
I sigh, " Oh, 'twill derange my mental powers,
Or by its dire excess dissolve my sight,
And thus entomb me in perpetual night!"

Ye sage physicians, where's your wonted skill?
In vain, the blisters, boluses and pill;
Great Neptune's swelling waves in vain I tried,
My malady its utmost power defied;
In vain, the British and Cephalic Snuff,
All patent medicines are empty stuff;
The lancet, leech, and cupping swell the train
Of useless efforts, which but give me pain;
Each art and application vain has proved,
For ah! my sad complaint is not removed.