THE lost days of my life until to-day, What were they, could I see them on the street Lie as they fell? Would they be ears of wheat Sown once for food but trodden into clay? Or golden coins squandered and still to pay? Or drops of blood dabbling the guilty feet? Or such split water as in dreams must cheat The undying throats of Hell, athirst alway? I do not see them here; but after death God knows I know the faces I shall see, Each one a murdered self, with low last breath. "I am thyself,--what hast thou done to me?" "And I--and I--thyself," (lo! each one saith,) "And thou thyself to all eternity!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 9 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE FIRST DANDELION by WALT WHITMAN ALAS! by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 7. TO REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER by MARK AKENSIDE ST. MARTIN'S WALL by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG THE SEVEN OLD MEN; TO VICTOR HUGO by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE A KISS - BY MISTAKE by JOEL BENTON |