DAYS of old, Ye are not dead, though gone from me; Ye are not cold, But like the summer-birds fled o'er some sea The sun brings back the swallows fast O'er the sea; When he cometh at the last, The days of old come back to me | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRST BREAK by ALEXANDER ANDERSON METAMORPHOSES: 11. INVOCATION OF ISIS by LUCIUS APULEIUS ON THE DEATH OF MR. WOODWARD, AT EDINBURGH by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD TO E. M. O. by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ROSALIND'S SCROLL by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE SALLE MONTESQUIEU; A PARISIAN REMINISCENCE by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |