WE that were friends, yet are not now, We that must daily meet With ready words and courteous bow, Acquaintance of the street; We must not scorn the holy past, We must remember still To honour feelings that outlast The reason and the will. I might reprove thy broken faith, I might recall the time When thou wert chartered mine till death, Through every fate and clime; When every letter was a vow, And fancy was not free To dream of ended love; and thou Wouldst say the same of me. No, no, 'tis not for us to trim The balance of our wrongs, Enough to leave remorse to him To whom remorse belongs! Let our dead friendship be to us A desecrated name, Unutterable, mysterious, A sorrow and a shame. A sorrow that two souls which grew Encased in mutual bliss, Should wander, callous strangers, through So cold a world as this! A shame that we, whose hearts had earned For life an early heaven, Should be like angels self-returned To Death, when once forgiven! Let us remain as living signs, Where they that run may read Pain and disgrace in many lines, As of a loss indeed; That of our fellows any who The prize of love have won May tremble at the thought to do The thing that we have done! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 5. THE DANCING GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO MY CLASS: ON CERTAIN FRUITS AND FLOWERS SENT ... SICKNESS by SIDNEY LANIER MAKING THE BED by KAREN SWENSON RIDDLE ON THE LETTER H (1) by CATHERINE MARIA FANSHAWE THE EAGLE THAT IS FORGOTTEN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY TWO HELPERS by MARY RUSSELL BARTLETT |