I WISH that when you died last May, Charles, there had died along with you Three parts of spring's delightful things; Ay, and, for me, the fourth part too. A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps! There must be many a pair of friends Who, arm in arm, deserve the warm Moon-births and the long evening-ends. So, for their sake, be May still May! Let their new time, as mine of old, Do all it did for me: I bid Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold. Only, one little sight, one plant, Woods have in May, that starts up green Save a sole streak which, so to speak, Is spring's blood, spilt its leaves between, -- That, they might spare; a certain wood Might miss the plant; their loss were small: But I, -- whene'er the leaf grows there, Its drop comes from my heart, that's all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST HOW MY HEART SINKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 9 by JAMES JOYCE THE WALL STREET PIT, MAY, 1901 by EDWIN MARKHAM THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BERENICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS QUI S'EXCUSE S'ACCUSE by MARIANNE MOORE |