IN the years that now are dead and gone -- Aye, dead, but ne'er forgot -- My neighbor's stately house looked down On the walls of my humble cot. I had my flowers and trees, 't is true, But they looked not fine and tall As my neighbor's flowers and trees, that grew On the other side of the wall. Through the autumn leaves his ripe fruits gleamed With richer tints than mine, And his grapes in the summer sunshine seemed More full of precious wine. Through garden walk and bower I stray Unbidden now and free; For my neighbor long has passed away, And his wealth has come to me. I pace those stately halls at last, But a darker shadow falls Within the house than once it cast On my lowly cottage walls. I pluck the fruit, the wine I waste, I drag through the weary hours; But the fruit is bitter to my taste, And I tire of the scent of flowers. And I'd take my poverty instead And all that I have resign, To feel as I felt when I coveted The wealth that now is mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FORCE OF LOVE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 1 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE BLACK PANTHER by JOHN HALL WHEELOCK SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 2 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY TO A YOUNG MAN ON THE PLATFORM OF A SUBWAY EXPRESS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE NATURAL FIRE by CLIFFORD ALLEN |