Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;
- Wow. No shiny, pretty, happy things here. In fact, not a lot of hope at all.
- What might a "rapture of distress" look like on the page? We're guessing not too pretty.