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The Short Fear: Poem by Ben Jonson

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My awkward grossness grows: I go down, through

I maintain my self in the conviction
that I have as much to say as others
and more apposite ways of saying it

Certainly I feel it has all been said

The short fear is that even saying it
in my own way is equally pointless

Analysis of this poem
  • fear

More verses by Ben Jonson

  • Song To Celia - I
  • Opening Doors
  • Vi: To The Same
  • A Celebration Of Charis: Iv. Her Triumph
  • Simplex Munditiis

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