THIS year -- next year -- sometime -- never, Gayly did she tell; Rose-leaf after rose-leaf ever Eddied round and fell. This year -- and she blushed demurely; That would be too soon; He could wait a little, surely, 'T is already June. Next year -- that's almost too hurried, Laughingly said she; For when once a girl is married, She no more is free. Sometime -- that is vague -- long waiting Many a trouble brings; 'Twixt delaying and debating Love might use its wings. Never -- word of evil omen, And she sighed, heigh-ho, -- 'T is the hardest lot for women Lone through life to go. Next year -- early in the May-time, Was to be the day; Looked she sweetly toward that gay time Gleaming far away. Never -- fair with bridal flowers Came that merry spring; Ere those bright and radiant hours She had taken wing. This year -- hearts are bound by sorrow; Next year -- some forget; Sometime -- comes that golden morrow; Never -- earth say yet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PROSPECT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING MENAPHON: SAMELA by ROBERT GREENE TWO THINGS by AMIR MAHMUD IBN AMIR YAMINU'D-DIN TUGHRA'I TAKE HER, BREAK HER by ANACREON POEM, READ THE SOLDIERS' WELCOME, FRANKLIN, NEW YORK, AUG. 5, 1865 by B. H. BARNES |