Sometimes I think that I shall live again; And chancing on these records of my times, I'll wonder dimly at the hidden pain Faded to quaintness in my early rhymes. And then, maybe, I shall be vaguely pleased To feel again the torture of myself; And by the ancient anguish gently eased, I shall return my own book to its shelf. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN INSINCERE WISH ADDRESSED TO A BEGGAR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA'S FASTING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO THE GALLIC EAGLE by BERNARD BARTON PSALM 80 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |