AH! whither gone, my friend of many years? I ask it of the silence, with the thought Of what thou wert and what thy hands have wrought, And only silence answers in my ears: Whither the life that beautiful appears, And true, with kindly ministrations fraught— Thy life that, passing when we dreamed it not, Has left us to our memories and our tears? If fairer now the light that round thee streams, Forget us not: thy steps we cannot trace; And yet we wait, as if to catch some gleams Of what lies yonder in that holy place, So thin the impenetrable curtain seems That separates the worlds and hides thy face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHEPHERD, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE ON A LUTE FOUND IN A SARCOPHAGUS by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE SIX TOWN ECLOGUES: SATURDAY; THE SMALL-POX by MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU THE RUINS OF CORINTH by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE PROFESSION OF FLATTERY by ANTIPHANES THE OUTCAST by HELEN MCCRORY ARENDELL THE CLOUDS: THE OLD EDUCATION by ARISTOPHANES |