THE path from me to you that led, Untrodden long, with grass is grown, — Mute carpet that his lieges spread Before the Prince Oblivion When he goes visiting the dead. And who are they but who forget? You, who my coming could surmise Ere any hint of me as yet Warned other ears and other eyes, See the path blurred without regret. But when I trace its windings sweet With saddened steps, at every spot That feels the memory in my feet, Each grass-blade turns forget-me-not, Where murmuring bees your name repeat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...O DREAMS, O DESTINATIONS by CECIL DAY LEWIS WALT WHITMAN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MERCILES BEAUTE; A TRIPLE ROUNDEL: 2. REJECTION by GEOFFREY CHAUCER BOADICEA; AN ODE by WILLIAM COWPER THE LIVING TEMPLE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE MALDIVE SHARK by HERMAN MELVILLE EULALIE; A SONG by EDGAR ALLAN POE |