'T WAS springtime of the day and year; Clouds of white fragrance hid the thorn. My heart unto her heart drew near, And ere the dew had fled the morn, Sweet Love was born. An August noon, an hour of bliss, That stands amid my hours alone, A word, a look, then -- ah, that kiss! Joy's veil was rent, her secret known: Love was full-grown. And now this drear November eve, What has to-day seen done, heard said? It boots not; who has tears to grieve For that last leaf yon tree has shed, Or for Love dead? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REMEMBERED MUSIC; A FRAGMENT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL A PETITION TO TIME by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER IDYLLS OF THE KING: TO THE QUEEN by ALFRED TENNYSON TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE REV. GILBERT WAKEFIELD by LUCY AIKEN ON THE PASSING OF THE LAST FIRE HORSE FROM MANHATTAN ISLAND by KENNETH SLADE ALLING PASSED BY by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS BLOUDIE JACKE OF SHREWSBERRIE; THE SHROPSHIRE BLUEBEARD by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |