What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts to-night, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply; And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain, For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone; I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BARMAID AND THE ALEXANDRITE by KAREN SWENSON IN THE MOONLIGHT by THOMAS HARDY SPRING by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT by JOHN HENRY NEWMAN AN ALPINE DESCENT by SAMUEL ROGERS |