YEARS come and go, each bringing in his train, Spring fair with promise, Summer glad with bloom, Fruit-bearing Autumn, and the Winter's gloom; But years and seasons march for Her in vain, Since still she strings her rosary of pain, Catching from far some subtle, lost perfume, Some scent of roses dying on a tomb, Unfreshened by Spring's dew or Summer's rain. Why change the seasons when She cannot change? For pomp of morn, high noon, or setting sun. What cares she? They are powerless to estrange Her soul from Grief, who, till her day is done, Companions her wherever she may range, And makes her New Years old, ere yet begun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEIGHBORS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 23 by THOMAS CAMPION DURING WIND AND RAIN by THOMAS HARDY A SUMMER NIGHT by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL SATIRE: 2 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS PSALM 80 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |