Remember not the promises we made In this same garden many moons ago. You must forget them. I would have it so. Old vows are like old flowers as they fade And vaguely vanish in a feeble death. There is no reason why your hands should clutch At pretty yesterdays. There is not much Of beauty in me now. And though my breath Is quick, my body sentient, my heart Attuned to romance as before, you must Not, through mistaken chivalry, pretend To love me still. There is no mortal art Can overcome Time's deep, corroding rust. Let Love's beginning expiate Love's end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA (1) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ODES III, 29 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS EIGHTEEN SIXTY-ONE by WALT WHITMAN YEW-TREES by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A MINUTE by INNOKENTI FYODOROVICH ANNENSKY |