Where are your ancient waves, O river, And where are your rounded leaves, You acacia trees of my youth? And where is the fresh snow of perished winters? I turn homewards and do not find home, The houses wear different clothes, Shamelessly they have gathered into unrecognizable streets, The girls with braided hair whom I loved most shyly Are women with children. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN HOSPITAL: 10. STAFF NURSE: NEW STYLE by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: MARSH SONG - AT SUNSET by SIDNEY LANIER A DOUBTING HEART by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER BANTAMS IN PINE-WOODS by WALLACE STEVENS A CHILD IS WEEPING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE INTREPID MARINER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |