LOVE is a thing of frail and delicate growth; Soon checked, soon fostered; feeble, and yet strong: It will endure much, suffer long, and bear What would weigh down an angel's wing to earth, And yet mount heavenward; but not the less It dieth of a word, a look, a thought; And when it dies, it dies without a sign To tell how fair it was in happier hours: It leaves behind reproaches and regrets, And bitterness within affection's well, For which there is no healing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO SAN FRANCISCO by SAMUEL JOHN ALEXANDER THE HAYSWATER BOAT by MATTHEW ARNOLD ON MEMORIAL DAY by EMMA BERGSTROM A PRAYER by WARREN K. BILLINGS MISERABLE NIGHT by AVENELLE WILMETH BLAIR A DREAM by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES WHOM EARTH HAS TAUGHT: PROSPICENCE by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS |