WHERE, oh where are the visions of morning, Fresh as the dews of our prime? Gone, like tenants that quit without warning, Down the back entry of time. Where, oh where are life's lilies and roses, Nursed in the golden dawn's smile? Dead as the bulrushes round little Moses, On the old banks of the Nile. Where are the Marys, and Anns, and Elizas, Loving and lovely of yore? Look in the columns of old Advertisers, -- Married and dead by the score. Where the gray colts and the ten-year-old fillies, Saturday's triumph and joy? Gone, like our friend Achilles, Homer's ferocious old boy. Die-away dreams of ecstatic emotion, Hopes like young eagles at play, Vows of unheard-of and endless devotion, How ye have faded away! Yet, though the ebbing of Time's mighty river Leave our young blossoms to die, Let him roll smooth in his current forever, Till the last pebble is dry. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 3. HER WORDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY ON SEEING BLENHEIM CASTLE by LUCY AIKEN THE DEATH OF HUSS by ALFRED AUSTIN APPLE-BLOSSOM by MATHILDE BLIND THE OPEN DOOR by NETTIE STEPHENSON BOWEN |