My Mother said: The child is changed That used to be so still; All the day long she sings, and sings, And seems to think no ill; She laughs as if some inward joy Her heart would overfill. My Sisters said: Now prithee tell Thy secret unto us: Let us rejoice with thee; for all Is surely prosperous, Thou art so merry: tell us Sweet: We had not used thee thus. My Mother says: What ails the child Lately so blythe of cheer? Art sick or sorry? nay, it is The Winter of the year; Wait till the Spring time comes again And the sweet flowers appear. My Sisters say: Come, sit with us, That we may weep with thee: Show us thy grief that we may grieve: Yea, haply, if we see Thy sorrow, we may ease it; but Shall share it certainly. How should I share my pain, who kept My pleasure all my own? My Spring will never come again; My pretty flowers have blown For the last time; I can but sit And think and weep alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ORNITHOPOLIS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN QUEEN MARY'S LETTER TO BOTHWELL by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT SKETCHES OF THE TEXAS PRAIRIE: 'APRIL RAINS' by GEORGE BOND BEAUTIFUL HANDS by INA LADD BROWN AN ELEGY ON SIR THOMAS OVERBURY; POISONED IN THE TOWER OF LONDON by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) STANZAS TO JESSY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON MAKING FACES by MARY LYDIA CARPENTER |