O times most bad,
Without the scope
Of hope
Of better to be had!
Where shall I go,
Or whither run
To shun
This public overthrow?
No places are,
This I am sure,
Secure
In this our wasting war.
Some storms we've past,
Yet we must all
Down fall,
And perish at the last.
Upon The Troublesome Times
Robert Herrick
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Poem topics: hope, war, public, secure, perish, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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