O shadows past the candle-gleam, so brief to pause in flight, Are shadows that can come no more Still moving unseen on the door Of Yesternight? O roses on the crumbling wall, so soon to droop and die, Are any roses that are dead Still fragrant where their petals bled In Junes gone by? O heart of mine, there is a face nor grief nor prayer can bring . . . Think you in some far Shadow-land One keeps my roses in his hand, Remembering? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NETHERLANDS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 52. WILLOWWOOD (4) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI FANCY, FR. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SUNDAY MORNING by WALLACE STEVENS IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 124 by ALFRED TENNYSON |