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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416265" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Complaint On The Miseries Of Life</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I loathe, O Lord, this life below, <br>And all its fading fleeting joys; <br>'Tis a short space that's fill'd with woe, <br>Which all our bliss by far outweighs. <br>When will the everlasting morn <br>With dawning light the skies adorn? <br>Fitly this life's compared to night, <br>When gloomy darkness shades the sky; <br>Just like the morn's our glimmering light <br>Reflected from the Deity. <br>When will celestial morn dispel <br>These dark surrounding shades of hell? <br>I'm sick of this vexatious state, <br>Where cares invade my peaceful hours; <br>Strike the last blow, O courteous fate, <br>I'll smiling fall like mowed flowers; <br>I'll gladly spurn this clogging clay, <br>And, sweetly singing, soar away. <br>What's money but refined dust? <br>What's honours but an empty name? <br>And what is soft enticing lust, <br>But a consuming idle flame? <br>Yea, what is all beneath the sky <br>But emptiness and vanity? <br>With thousand ills our life's oppress'd, <br>There's nothing here worth living for <br>In the lone grave I long to rest, <br>And be harass'd here no more: <br>Where joy's fantastic, grief's sincere, <br>And where there's nought for which I care. <br>Thy word, O Lord, shall be my guide, <br>Heaven, where thou dwellest is my goal; <br>Through corrupt life grant I may glide <br>With an untainted upward soul. <br>Then may this life, this dreary night, <br>Dispelled be by morning light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Thomson">James Thomson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416265" data-title="A Complaint On The Miseries Of Life de James Thomson" data-description="I loathe, O Lord, this life below, 
And all its fading fleeting joys; 
'Tis a short space that's fill'd with woe, 
Which all our bliss by far outweighs. 
When will the everlasting morn 
With dawning light the skies adorn? 
Fitly this life's compar..."></div>
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