The likeness of his yesterdays is such That many a man might fly them if he could But rid himself of their endearing clutch And free his heart of their restraining blood; But the moment that he yearns to try and touch Some morning just to see it change its hood, The April underneath soon proves it's much The same -- by doing what most Aprils would! To find oneself no farther from the dead Than a rose is from a rose a June ago, Or fallen leaves are from an autumn, red The moment that a seed decides to grow? Should not the rondo of the earth be more Than yesterday's -- brought from the day before? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DUNES OF INDIANA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AUX ITALIENS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE OTHER SIDE OF A MIRROR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE CACOETHES SCRIBENDI by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE VAMPIRE by RUDYARD KIPLING THE THREE KINGS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |