MY love, my love, if I were old, My body bent, my blood grown cold, With thin white hairs upon my brow. Say wouldst thou think of me as now? Wouldst thou cling to me still, As down life's sloping hill We came at last through the unresting years? Art thou prepared for tears, For time's sure-coming losses, For life's despites and crosses, My love, my love? Ah! brief our little, little day; Ah! years that fleet so fast away; Before our summer scarce begun, Look, spring and blossom-tide are done! When all things hasten past, How should love only last? How should our souls alone unchanged remain? -- Come pleasure or come pain, In days of joy and gladness, In years of grief and sadness, Love shall be love! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHITE NOCTURNE by CONRAD AIKEN THE GOLDEN CORPSE by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CAVE PAINTING by HAYDEN CARRUTH HIGH PLAINS RAG by JAMES GALVIN GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: JOHN SCOFIELD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELIZABETH CHILDERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |