Like truthless dreams, so are my joys expired, And past return are all my dandled days; My love misled, and fancy quite retired -- Of all which passed the sorrow only stays. My lost delights, now clean from sight of land, Have left me all alone in unknown ways; My mind to woe, my life in fortune's hand -- Of all which passed the sorrow only stays. As in a country strange, without companion, I only wail the wrong of death's delays, Whose sweet spring spent, whose summer well nigh done -- Of all which passed the sorrow only stays. Whom care forewarns, ere age and winter cold, To haste me hence to find my fortune's fold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARIS IN SPRING by SARA TEASDALE ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER by JOHN KEATS FIRST FIG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY LAUS VENERIS (A PICTURE BY BURNE-JONES) by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 40 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT REQUIESCIT by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |