THOUGH Winter come with dripping skies, And laden winds and strong, Yet I'll read summer in her eyes Whose voice is summer's song. Who grieves because the world is old, Or cares how long it last, If no gray threads are in our gold, The shade our marbles cast, How, creeping near, we may not see? Time's heirs are Love and I, And spend our minted days -- Ah, me! For anything they'll buy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER by THOMAS CAMPBELL THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7. OF PLEASURE AND PAIN by THOMAS CAMPION THE FLOWER OF BEAUTY by GEORGE DARLEY PSALM 9. CONFITEBOR TIBI by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE BIRDS OF PASSAGE: PRELUDE by MATHILDE BLIND CONCERT PARTY: BUSSEBOOM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |