I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware, So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair; And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, -- 'Guess now who holds thee?' -- 'Death,' I said. But, there, The silver answer rang, -- 'Not Death, but Love.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAVE PAINTING by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MAGRADY GRAHAM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS JUST & UNJUST by CHARLES SYNGE CHRISTOPHER BOWEN AGAINST THEM WHO LAY UNCHASTITY TO THE SEX OF WOMAN by WILLIAM HABINGTON THE BROOKSIDE by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES |