Some, fingering the leaves of memory's book, Linger at one especial page to look -- Thus visioning again in fancy's way The vanished gladness of a by-gone day -- Living once more a happy hour, that cheers The dreary routine of life's emptier years. To find just one such page, I do not need. But opening my book haphazard -- read In every chapter, records of dear days Set with white mile-stones all along their ways -- Because, Dear Heart, the whole thick volume through, Began, continued, ended -- all with You! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: THE HUMAN SEASONS by JOHN KEATS A LETTER FROM A GIRL TO HER OWN OLD AGE by ALICE MEYNELL KIT CARSON'S RIDE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 53. WITHOUT HER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |