ART thou the selfsame wind that blew When I was but a boy? Thy voice is like the voice I knew, And yet the thrill of joy Has softened to a sadder tone -- Perchance the echo of mine own. Beside a sea of memories In solitude I dwell: Upon the shore forsaken lies Alas! no murmuring shell! Are all the voices lost to me Still wandering the world with thee? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOTHER WATCH by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST LET THE LIGHT ENTER (THE DYING WORDS OF GOETHE) by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER SENCE YOU WENT AWAY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON STORY OF THE GATE by HARRISON ROBERTSON COURAGE THAT OVERCOMES by MARGARETE ROSE AKIN RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |