O thought, fly to her when the end of day Awakens an old memory, and say, 'Your strength, that is so lofty and fierce and kind, It might call up a new age, calling to mind The queens that were imagined long ago, Is but half yours: he kneaded in the dough Through the long years of youth, and who would have thought It all, and more than it all, would come to naught. And that dear words meant nothing?' But enough, For when we have blamed the wind we can blame love; Or, if there needs be more, be nothing said That would be harsh for children that have strayed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOREST MAID by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT ODES II, 10 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS TWICE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI AUTUMN: A DIRGE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY CYNTHIA SLEEPING IN A GARDEN; A SONNET by PHILIP AYRES A PREPARATORY HYMNE TO THE WEEK OF MEDITACIONS UPON, & DEVOUT EXERCISE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |