IN the spring-time of youth didst thou bless me, Ere blossomed thy genius and fame; Fair was I, nor thou loath to confess me An heiress of pride in thy name. The doom of the leaves first surrounding A tree, is to wither the first; My bloom almost spent, Time is sounding A death knell accurst. Long trembles the leaf that is fading, Long clings to the source of its strength; A fate have I long been evading, The breeze that will part us at length. Mine only the fainting, the grief, Thy beauty, thy joy, will remain; The tree -- does it miss one pale leaf? My loss is thy gain. A host green and radiant will throng thee, To drink in delight from thy wealth; For me so to linger would wrong thee, Nor lend me new vigour and health. Elate as of yore wilt thou flourish In dreamy commune with the sky, A-tremble, lest aught that can nourish Should fail of supply. While I, losing hold of thy glory, From Heaven to dark earth shall descend, Falling down, down and down, till my story Unblest by thy nurture shall end. So spiritless now, that I shiver At even a zephyr's light breath; The night-gale is sighing -- I quiver, I leave thee for death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEVEN ARTS by ROBERT FROST ABOVE AND WITHIN by DAVID IGNATOW |