Would I might mend the fabric of my youth Which daily flaunts its tatters to my eyes, Would I might compromise awhile with truth Until love's moon, now waxing, wanes and dies. For I would go a further while with you And drain this Cup of Joy so passing fair, Which meets my parching lips like cooling dew 'Ere time has brushed cold fingers through my hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BELLS OF LONDON by MOTHER GOOSE ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT by ALEXANDER POPE SENTINEL SONGS: 1 by ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN INDEPENDENCE DAY by ROYALL TYLER THE BARTHOLDI STATUE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MOONLIGHT by MARGUERITE ATTERBURY THE POET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT PASSIVE PARTICIPLE'S PETITION by JOHN BYROM TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. IN THE STONE-FLOORED WORKSHOP by EDWARD CARPENTER |