I SAW the peasant's hand unkind From yonder oak the ivy sever; They seem'd in very being twined; Yet now the oak is fresh as ever. Not so the widow'd ivy shines: Torn from its dear and only stay, In drooping widowhood it pines, And scatters all its blooms away! Thus, Julia, did our hearts entwine, Till Fate disturb'd their tender ties: Thus gay indifference blooms in thine, While mine, deserted, droops and dies! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEN WHO MARCH AWAY' (SONG OF THE SOLDIERS) by THOMAS HARDY AFTERNOON ON A HILL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY LAODAMIA by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O-- by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |