FROM the outskirts of the town, Where of old the mile-stone stood, Now a stranger, looking down I behold the shadowy crown Of the dark and haunted wood. Is it changed, or am I changed? Ah! the oaks are fresh and green, But the friends with whom I ranged Through their thickets are estranged By the years that intervene. Bright as ever flows the sea, Bright as ever shines the sun, But alas! they seem to me Not the sun that used to be, Not the tides that used to run. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 8. TO MINNIE (WITH A HAND-GLASS) by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON CHRIST TO HIS SPOUSE by WILLIAM BALDWIN HINTS OF AN HISTORICAL PLAY TO BE CALLED WILLIAM RUFUS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM NOW OR NEVER by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN EURYDICE TO ORPHEUS by ROBERT BROWNING VISTAS OF LABOR: 1. THE STEAMSHIP STOKER by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 20. THE CATHEDRAL-WALK by GEORGE CRABBE |