THESE little presents of your tenderness, Although less grand a gift than was your love, Are dear to me in this October stress Of wind and war and whirling leaves above. They comfort my soul's Autumn, and they prove How little time can do, to ban or bless, How much ourselves. You willed the years should move Back in their cycle. And behold, love, this! —Now, therefore, let us mark this fortunate day, And use it for our feast day. Every year Let us, when winds are high and the leaves fall, Hold in this house our love's memorial, Sitting thus hand in hand. Still let me lay As in the happy days, ere leaves were sere, My head upon your lap and call you "dear." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TOCCATA OF GALUPPI'S by ROBERT BROWNING EPIGRAM: A BURNT SHIP by JOHN DONNE FIDELIA: 4. THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION IN A SONNET by GEORGE WITHER VERSES FROM THE 'ANNALIA DUBRENSIA' by WILLIAM BASSE SONG ON THE WATER (2) by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SALOME by HARRIET GRAY BLACKWELL A POEM, DEDICATED TO WILLIAM LAW, PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY by ROBERT BLAIR |