Our early years -- our early years, Recall them not again; The memory of former joy, The pang of former pain. Where is our childhood? Where are they The playmates of the heart, Whose first sweet lesson was to love, Whose second was to part? The Dead are with the past; for them How fruitless our despair! Unkindness, anger, fondness, grief, Alike are buried there. Alas! such thoughts can only weep The heart's most bitter rain: Our early years -- our early years, Recall them not again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAYS OF TIME by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE OLD VIOLIN by MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN THE SLAVE MOTHER by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER IN THE NEOLITHIC AGE by RUDYARD KIPLING THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD by WALTER RALEIGH PASSING AWAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 90. 'RETRO ME, SATHANA!' by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |