And Ellen, when the greybeard years Have brought us to life's Evening hour And all the crowded Past appears A tiny scene of sun & shower. -- Then, if I read the page aright Where Hope the soothsayer reads our lot, Thyself shalt own the page was bright Well that we loved wo had we not. When Mirth is dumb & Flattery's fled And thy mute music's dearest tone When all but Love itself is dead, And all but deathless Reason gone | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOODNOTES: 2 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON WHAT THE BULLET SANG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE KIT CARSON'S RIDE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE SURPRISE AT TICONDEROGA [MAY 10, 1775] by MARY ANNA PHINNEY STANSBURY DECEMBER 31ST by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE DEATH OF YE LIFE OF LOVE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ANTARA by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |