The spring, my dear, Is no longer spring. Does the blackbird sing What he sang last year? Are the skies the old Immemorial blue? Or am I, or are you, Grown cold? Though life be change, It is hard to bear When the old sweet air Sounds forced and strange. To be out of tune, Plain You and I . . . It were better to die, And soon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 2 by EZRA POUND RAIN ON A GRAVE by THOMAS HARDY TO A WILD DUCK by BERNICE GIBBS ANDERSON THE WEDDING DAY; OR, THE BUCCANEER'S CURSE; A FAMILY LEGEND by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE LAST MAN: LIFE A GLASS WINDOW by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES IN AND OUT OF CHURCH by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE HEBREW MIND by M. L. R. BRESLAR |