FROM end to end of the skies, Wherever a blossom flow'rs, Wherever a swallow flies, The world is the Spring's and ours. To-day you are mine, my own, Whatever may chance to-morrow; You reign in my heart alone, Without a shadow of sorrow. The Spring will never return. There'll come again and again A fire in the months to burn, A sound of sighs in the rain. But the Spring will be over and done. My soul, there are men who miss The hour that we two shall have won, Who walk in the wood and kiss. We have emptied the cup of the earth, And I break it here at your feet; What else could it hold were worth The savour of hours so sweet? And I never shall envy the dead, The dead who sleep and forget The forest in flower overhead, Springtime and love and regret. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE [ON THE POETS] by JOHN KEATS TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW JONAH'S SONG, FR. MOBY DICK by HERMAN MELVILLE THE LOVER AND THE BIRDS by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |