Our early years -- our early years, Recall them not again; The memory of former joy, The pang of former pain. Where is our childhood? Where are they The playmates of the heart, Whose first sweet lesson was to love, Whose second was to part? The Dead are with the past; for them How fruitless our despair! Unkindness, anger, fondness, grief, Alike are buried there. Alas! such thoughts can only weep The heart's most bitter rain: Our early years -- our early years, Recall them not again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TELL'S BIRTHPLACE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE SONG OF THE OLD MOTHER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE TENDER HUSBAND: PROLOGUE by JOSEPH ADDISON ON THE DEATH OF CYNTHIA'S HORSE by PHILIP AYRES GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 7 by RICHARD BARNFIELD HEY, CA' THRO' by ROBERT BURNS |