WE do not know how much we love, Until we come to leave; An aged tree, a common flower, Are things o'er which we grieve. There is a pleasure in the pain That brings us back the past again. We linger while we turn away, We cling while we depart; And memories, unmarked till then, Come crowding on the heart. Let what will lure our onward way, Farewell's a bitter word to say. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLUE-BUTTERFLY DAY by ROBERT FROST THE DEPARTURE OF THE SWALLOW by WILLIAM HOWITT SA-CA-GA-WE-A; THE INDIAN GIRL WHO GUIDED LEWIS AND CLARK by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR JOHN PELHAM by JAMES RYDER RANDALL THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 10. THE DEATH OF HUSKISSON by T. BAKER |