'T WAS eve and May when last, through tears, Thine eyes sought mine, thy hand my hand. The night came down her silent spheres, And up the silent land. In silence, too, my thoughts were furled, Like ring-doves in the dreaming grove. Who would not lightly lose the world To keep such love? But many Mays, with all their flowers, Are faded since that blissful time -- The last of all my happy hours I' the golden clime! By hands not thine these wreaths were curled That hide the care my brows above: And I have almost gained the world, But lost that love. As though for some serene dead brow, These wreaths for me I let them twine. I hear the voice of praise, and know It is not thine. How many long and lonely days I strove with life thy love to gain! I know my work was worth thy praise; But all was vain. Vain Passion's fire, vain Music's art! For who from thorns grape-bunches gathers? What depth is in the shallow heart? What weight in feathers? As drops the blossom, ere the growth Of fruit, on some autumnal tree, I drop from my changed life, its youth And joy in thee: And look beyond, and o'er thee, -- right To some sublimer end than lies Within the compass of the sight Of thy cold eyes. With thine my soul hath ceased its strife. Thy part is filled; thy work is done; Thy falsehood buried in my life, And known to none. Yet still will golden memories frame Thy broken image in my heart, And love for what thou wast shut blame From what thou art. In Life's long galleries, haunting-eyed, Thy pictured face no change shall show; Like some dead Queen's who lived and died An age ago! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A DEAD MAN by CARL SANDBURG COUNTRY SCHOOLROOM, ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE BOOK OF MARTYRS by EMILY DICKINSON ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT by ALEXANDER POPE VERSES OCCASIONED BY THE SUDDEN DRYING UP..ST.PATRICK'S WELL by JONATHAN SWIFT SHIPS AT SUNSET by STANLEY E. BABB |