Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire that closes round me this year. Thirtyfive years I lived with my husband. The plumtree is white today with masses of flowers. Masses of flowers loaded the cherry branches and color some bushes yellow and some red but the grief in my heart is stronger than they for though they were my joy formerly, today I notice them and turned away forgetting. Today my sone told me that in the meadows, at the edge of the heavy woods in the distance, he saw trees of white flowers. I feel that I would like to go there and fall into those flowers and sink into the marsh near them. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABOU BEN ADHEM by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT SONNET: 146 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE GARDEN DAYS: 6. AUTUMN FIRES by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 56 by EDWARD TAYLOR THE PRAYSE OF LADY PECUNIA by RICHARD BARNFIELD |