The orange-tree you planted as a bride At Mon Repos, long years ago has died; And now the weeping willow, trailing low Over the drive, is gone from Mon Repos. There was a welcome in that willow's boughs, Their sweep announced the hostess and the house: The coachman and his pair no longer know The feel of willow, entering Mon Repos. Old friends who came there of a holiday Were eager for the hostess' "Won't you stay?" Discourteous Death to some has whispered "Go!", And they have gone, and so has Mon Repos. And all the loveliness we called our own Has gone. Wistaria's fountain spray wind-blown, Showering rose-fringed lawns with summer snow, Has felt the touch of frost with Mon Repos. The orange-tree you planted never grew. Wistaria and willow pass. But you, More dear than memories of long ago, Are all I care to keep of Mon Repos. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HARMOSAN by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH ROSAMOND: KING HENRY'S SONG by JOSEPH ADDISON THE RUNNERS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET ASCENSION OF A CITY FOG by FRANCES COFFIN BOAZ OCTOBER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES HONOUR'S MARTYR by EMILY JANE BRONTE FAILAND by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |