THE years that since we met have flown Leave as they found me, still alone: No wife, nor child, nor grandchild dear, Are mine the heart of age to cheer. More favored thou, with hair less gray Than mine, canst let thy fancy stray To where thy little Constance sees The prairie ripple in the breeze; For one like her to lisp thy name Is better than the voice of fame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ISN'T IT ROMANTIC by KAREN SWENSON CITY VIGNETTE: DAWN by SARA TEASDALE THE RHODORA: ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? by RALPH WALDO EMERSON TRAVEL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY UPON A SPIDER CATCHING A FLY by EDWARD TAYLOR ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 11. ON LOVE - TO A FRIEND by MARK AKENSIDE |