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...EARTH'S IMMORTALITIES: LOVE by ROBERT BROWNING LEINSTER by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY |