And afterward if we should ever meet, Oh, years from now, when love itself shall seem A sleeping memory or a dusty dream, It may be I could pass you on the street And see just this: -- that you are old and slow, And stout, perhaps, and very gray; I might remember tranquilly that day All that had ceased to matter long ago. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTRY SUMMER by LEONIE ADAMS TO THE FAIR CLARINDA, WHO MADE LOVE TO ME by APHRA BEHN THE ALCHEMIST by ST. CLAIR ADAMS SOUNDS OF THE CITY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE HA! HA! HO! HO! by BERTON BRALEY THE SHRIMP, SELS by MOSES BROWNE |