MY little breath, under the willows by the water-side we used to sit, And there the yellow cottonwood bird came and sang. That I remember and therefore I weep. Under the growing corn we used to sit, And there the little leaf bird came and sang. That I remember and therefore I weep. There on the meadow of yellow flowers we used to walk. Alas! how long ago that we two walked in that pleasant way. Then everything was happy, but alas! how long ago. There on the meadow of crimson flowers we used to walk. Oh, my little breath, now I go there alone in sorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SCHOOL BOY, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SUMTER [APRIL 12, 1861] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN EPITAPH ON THE SECRETARY TO THE MUSES by JANE BARKER DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: THE SLIGHT AND DEGENERATE NATURE OF MAN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES IMPROMPTU by FRANCOIS JOACHIM DE PIERRE DE BERNIS EPIGRAM ON ONE BORN BLIND, AND SO DEAD by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7. BASIA by THOMAS CAMPION |