THERE is not much, indeed, that I can say Since "If" was the sole country of our dreams, And at its gate one stood to bar the way To that glad land, those silver-shining streams. I know, dear Heart, how fair that country is, -- Its rivers flow through meadows green and still, Its skies bend lovingly o'er lovers' bliss, No cold winds blow there, and no winters chill. There would we fain have wandered, thou and I, -- But the strong Angel met us at its gate: He heeded not Love's prayer, or Passion's cry, -- "Oh, fools are mad," he said, "you come too late." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HELEN (1) by EDGAR ALLAN POE REUBEN JAMES by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE TIMES GO BY TURNS by ROBERT SOUTHWELL TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE'S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |