Old friends are but a graveyard where the dead Lie unentombed and have a final fling; A potter's field, with gay bones bellowing Forgotten things far better left unsaid. Yesterday is a hearty corpse, well fed; An old lover; a long outmoded thing; And yet persistently re-echoing An existence which has since been shed. Today I go serenely on my way Until a face looms from the past; I greet Not just this friend, but all of yesterday -- A kiss, a tear, a triumph or defeat. Oh God! It seems more strange with passing Springs That I should have outgrown so many things. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MOTLEY: MUSIC by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE CORN-LAW HYMN by EBENEZER ELLIOTT THE WILD RIDE by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 109 by PHILIP SIDNEY SONNET TO LIBERTY by OSCAR WILDE ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS: PART 2: 25. THE VIRGIN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE BLASPHEMER'S WARNING; A LAY OF ST. ROMWOLD by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |