OH, tell me not of any mirth; I know them all by heart -- Fond laughter wavering by the hearth, Shrill songs of field and cart. Oh, tell me not of any grief, For I do know them all -- Slim, empty chambers, wane of leaf, And tears, tears that befall. Oh, tell me not of beauty's glass, I know it through and through; Old loves, each flower within the grass, Is fashioned like to you. Jest, weeping, daring beauty, too, Starlight and jocund dawn; I learned them everyone from you, That now are lost and gone. Old loves, old house worn dear and thin, One thing is left of all; -- I hear the little rains begin Along the orchard wall. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WARTONS AND OTHER EARLY ROMANTIC LANDSCAPE-POETS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN PILATE'S WIFE'S DREAM by CHARLOTTE BRONTE THE NEW ARGONAUTS by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: FRIDAY by JOHN BYROM ROMAE, PRINCIPIS URBIUM ... by JOHN BYROM SPRING NIGHT by ELLEN MAGRATH CARROLL |