LAST night I dreamed I stood once more Beneath our garden wall. I saw the willows bending grey, The poplar springing tall. O paths where oft I plucked the rose, O steeple in the sky, O Common swelling darkly green, How glad at heart was I! My hand I raised to lift the latch, But lo, the gate was gone! And all around, ay, all around There ran a wall of stone... O years when oft we plucked the rose, When oft we laughed and cried! Thou hast no gate, O Youth, our Youth, When once we stand outside! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRANSFORMATION by CARL SANDBURG OUR GOOD PRESIDENT by PHOEBE CARY NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT by EUGENE FIELD ON THE SITE OF A MULBERRY-TREE PLANTED BY SHAKESPEARE ... by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI OF THE MANNER OF ADDRESSING CLOUDS by WALLACE STEVENS THE THREE TROOPERS DURING THE PROTECTORATE by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY |