For the first twenty years, since yesterday, I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away; For forty more, I fed on favours past, And forty on hopes -- that thou wouldst, they might, last. Tears drowned one hundred, and sighs blew out two; A thousand, I did neither think, nor do, Or not divide, all being one thought of you; Or in a thousand more forgot that too. Yet call not this long life, but think that I Am, by being dead, immortal. Can ghosts die? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VOICES OF THE AIR by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SONNET: 50 by GEORGE SANTAYANA A TOAST TO OUR NATIVE LAND by ROBERT BRIDGES (1858-1941) CANADA by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS SAINT AGNES' EVE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE SINGER IN THE PRISON by WALT WHITMAN |