NO days that dawn can match for her The days before her house was bare; Sweet was the whole year with the stir Of young feet on the stair. Once was she wealthy with small cares, And small hands clinging to her knees; Now is she poor, and, weeping, bears Her strange, new hours of ease. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE BERKSHIRE HILLS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER CHARLES AUGUSTUS FORTESCUE by HILAIRE BELLOC THE V-A-S-E by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE THE MAN WHO DREAMED OF FAERYLAND by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS DRINKING SONG (5) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN by AGNES H. BEGBIE MINE THE GROUND by MILDRED BOWERS |