In vain men tell us time can alter Old loves or make old memories falter, That with the old year the old year's life closes. The old dew still falls on the old sweet flowers, The old sun revives the new-fledged hours, The old summer rears the new-born roses. Much more of a Muse that bears upon her Raiment and wreath and flower and honor, Gathered long silence and long since woven, Fades not or falls as fall the vernal Blossoms that bear no fruit eternal, By summer or winter charred or cloven. No time casts down, no time upraises, Such loves, such memories, and such praises, As need no grace of sun or shower, No saving screen from frost or thunder, To tend and house around and under The imperishable and fearless flower. Old thanks, old thoughts, old aspirations, Outlive men's lives and lives of nations, Dead, but for one thing which survives -- The inalienable and unpriced treasure, The old joy of power, the old pride of pleasure, That lives in light above men's lives. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO ROSAMONDE: A BALADE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER TO SIR HENRY WOTTON (1) by JOHN DONNE THE MYSTERIOUS CAT by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY ENVOI by JOHN GNEISENAU NEIHARDT DRINKING SONG (1) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE LOVE'S WISDOM by ALFRED AUSTIN COMOS by ADRA CAROLINE BATCHELDER |