WHERE are last year's snows, Where the summer's rose, -- Who is there that knows? Or the glorious note Of some singer's throat, Heard in years remote? Or the love they bore Who, in days of yore, Loved, but are no more? Or the faiths men knew When, before mind grew, All strange things seemed true? * * * * The snows are sweet spring rain, The dead rose blooms again, Young voices keep the strain. The old affection mild Still springs up undefiled For love, and friend, and child. The old faiths grown more wide, Purer and glorified, Are still our lifelong guide. Nothing that once has been, Tho' ages roll between And it be no more seen, Can perish, for the Will Which doth our being fulfil, Sustains and keeps it still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA PALOMA IN LONDON by CLAUDE MCKAY CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MEMORY by HAYDEN CARRUTH WORDS IN A CERTAIN APPROPRIATE MODE by HAYDEN CARRUTH EVERYONE KNOWS WHOM THE SAVED ENVY by JAMES GALVIN TIRED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 1. SUNRISE IN THE TROPICS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |