I MOURN not the forest whose verdure is dying; I mourn not the summer whose beauty is o'er; I weep for the hopes that for ever are flying; I sigh for the worth that I slighted before; And sigh to bethink me how vain is my sighing, For love, once extinguish'd, is kindled no more. The spring may return with his garland of flowers, And wake to new rapture the bird on the tree; The summer smile soft through his crystalline showers The blessings of autumn wave brown o'er the lea: The rock may be shaken, the dead may awaken, But the friend of my bosom returns not to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHERIDAN AT CEDAR CREEK by HERMAN MELVILLE DECLASSE by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD THE LOST GODS ABIDING by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PSALM 89 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE BABEL: THE GATE OF GOD by GORDON BOTTOMLEY CLOWNS' DAY by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON PICTURES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. WIDENING CIRCLES by EDWARD CARPENTER |