EREWHILE, before the world was old, When violets grew and celandine, In Cupid's train we were enrolled: Erewhile! Your little hands were clasped in mine, Your head all ruddy and sun-gold Lay on my breast which was your shrine, And all the tale of love was told: Ah, God, that sweet things should decline, And fires fade out which were not cold, Erewhile. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 9 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 50 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SPRING IN WAR TIME by SARA TEASDALE TO A FOIL'D EUROPEAN REVOLUTIONAIRE by WALT WHITMAN OUT OF THE HILLS by IRENE ARCHER QUEEN MOUNTAIN by BLANCHE BROWNE BRYANT A VOICE FROM ACADEME by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THE APE AND THE FOX, ON THE FRUITS OF GREEDINESS AND CREDULITY by JOHN BYROM |