In the last year I have learned How few men are worth my trust; I have seen the friend I loved Struck by death into the dust, And fears I never knew before Have knocked and knocked upon my door -- "I shall hope little and ask for less," I said, "There is no happiness." I have grown wise at last -- but how Can I hide the gleam on the willow-bough, Or keep the fragrance out of the rain Now that April is here again? When maples stand in a haze of fire What can I say to the old desire, What shall I do with the joy in me That is born out of agony? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHTINGALE; A CONVERSATION POEM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE FOR ONE LATELY BEREFT by MARGARET E. BRUNER MIDSUMMER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT OATS WILD TURN MILD by THRALL BUELL COCK UP YOUR BEAVER by ROBERT BURNS VOICES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON EPIGRAM ON AN OLD LADY WHO HAD SOME CURIOUS NOTIONS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |