Where twilight broods o'er Acheron A youthful face waits mine, Care cannot make a whit more wan, Or sorrow less divine. By Styx, whose changeless asphodel Blooms heavy with dew, is one Who in his innocence keeps well Our tryst till Time be done. O eyes whose earthly light is hid, Heart of my childhood be Content to sleep, till Love have bid Age turn again to thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHOOTING OF DAN MCGREW by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE NERVES by ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS THE TRANCE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE PASSERS BY by AL-RADI BILLAH PARLIAMENT OF WOMEN: PRAXAGORA REHEARSES by ARISTOPHANES GIVE HIM HIS DUE by LEVI BISHOP |