I learnt to write to you in happier days, And every letter was a piece I chipped From off my heart, a fragment newly clipped From the mosaic of life; its blues and grays, Its throbbing reds, I gave to earn your praise. To make a pavement for your feet I stripped My soul for you to walk upon, and slipped Beneath your steps to soften all your ways. But now my letters are like blossoms pale We strew upon a grave with hopeless tears. I ask no recompense, I shall not fail Although you do not heed; the long, sad years Still pass, and still I scatter flowers frail, And whisper words of love which no one hears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HUMAN ABSTRACT, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SONNET: 116 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE NO-LONGER-MERRY ANCIENT MONARCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS LIFE'S CURTAIN by EMMA MAGIN BISSELL ON THE WAY OF THE CROSS by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |