My Mother said: The child is changed That used to be so still; All the day long she sings, and sings, And seems to think no ill; She laughs as if some inward joy Her heart would overfill. My Sisters said: Now prithee tell Thy secret unto us: Let us rejoice with thee; for all Is surely prosperous, Thou art so merry: tell us Sweet: We had not used thee thus. My Mother says: What ails the child Lately so blythe of cheer? Art sick or sorry? nay, it is The Winter of the year; Wait till the Spring time comes again And the sweet flowers appear. My Sisters say: Come, sit with us, That we may weep with thee: Show us thy grief that we may grieve: Yea, haply, if we see Thy sorrow, we may ease it; but Shall share it certainly. How should I share my pain, who kept My pleasure all my own? My Spring will never come again; My pretty flowers have blown For the last time; I can but sit And think and weep alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RUPERT BROOKE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE PILLAR OF FAME by ROBERT HERRICK WIDOW MALONE by CHARLES JAMES LEVER THE SLAVE'S DREAM by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1720 by JONATHAN SWIFT SONNET FOR A PICTURE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE HAPPY WANDERER by PERCY ADDLESHAW |