Come, let me kiss your wistful face Where Sorrow curves her bow of pain, And live sweet days and bitter days With you, or wanting you again. I dread your perishable gold: Come near me now; the years are few. Alas, when you and I are old I shall not want to look at you: And yet come in. I shall not dare To gaze upon your countenance, But I shall huddle in my chair, Turn to the fire my fireless glance, And listen, while that slow and grave Immutable sweet voice of yours Rises and falls, as falls a wave In summer on forsaken shores. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOON AND VENUS by ABUL MUGHIRA PROMETHEUS BOUND: THE OVERTHROW OF ZEUS by AESCHYLUS DISCIPLINE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PROFITABLE THINGS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET MY KATE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |