My pictures blacken in their frames As night comes on, And youthful maids and wrinkled dames Are now all one. Death of the day! a sterner Death Did worse before; The fairest form, the sweetest breath, Away he bore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INDIAN SUMMER by EMILY DICKINSON SONNET: 42 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE ENCHANTMENT by THOMAS OTWAY A BIRTHDAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE QUEEN FORGETS by GEORGE STERLING THE WINDS OF FATE by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX |