It seems to me, dearest, if you were dead, And thought returned to me after the tears, The hopeless first oblivious tears, were shed, That this would be the bitterest, not that I Had lost for all sad hours of all my years The joys enjoyed and happy hours gone by; Ah no, but that while we had time to live And love before the coming of the night, Yet knew the hours of daylight fugitive, Proud as a child who will not what he would, Sometimes I did not love you as I might, Sometimes you did not love me when you could. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRYSTAL GAZER by SARA TEASDALE NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH [OR ENGLISH] SAILOR [BOY] by THOMAS CAMPBELL MADRIGAL: 1 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN AN OLD SWEETHEART [OF MINE] by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY REUBEN BRIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |