AS SOME pale shade in glorious battle slain, On beds of rue, beside the silent streams, Recalls outworn delights in happy dreams; The play of oars upon the flashing main, The speed of runners and the swelling vein, And toil in pleasant upland field that teems With vine and gadding gourd — until he seems To feel wan memories of the sun again And scent the vineyard slopes when dawn is wet, But feels no ache within his loosened knees To join the runners where the course is set, Nor smite the billows of the fruitless seas — So I recall our day of passion yet, With sighs and tenderness, but no regret. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LATE SINGER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS LANCER by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN GROWING OLD by FRANCIS LEDWIDGE THE SHRINE OF VENUS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE GREAT BLACK CROW by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY CHAUCER AND WINDSOR by THOMAS CAMPBELL |