In the world's book so full of vulgar things Which tell of love, some dying and some dead. It is most pleasant to find one that rings As true in age as when on youth it fed. It is to me like a Utopian dream By some strange chance made real and manifest. I read in it a glorious anthem's theme, Which only can be sung by Heaven's blest. For truest love sees in the withered flower A beauty which it owned when first it grew, Protects it from the fierce and sudden shower, And bathes its sweetness in the autumn dew. And though there's many a promise broken, And the world's book has many pages torn, I have seen some whose love gives every token Of being just as true as when 'twas born. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WESTERN CIVILIZATION by JAMES GALVIN FINIS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL A PSALM OF TRAVEL by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE TREE OF SONG by SARA TEASDALE |