FORTY springs back, I recall, We met at this phase of the Maytime: We might have clung close through all, But we parted when died that daytime. We parted with smallest regret; Perhaps should have cared but slightly, Just then, if we never had met: Strange, strange that we lived so lightly! Had we mused a little space At that critical date in the Maytime, One life had been ours, one place, Perhaps, till our long cold claytime. -- This is a bitter thing For thee, O man: what ails it? The tide of chance may bring Its offer; but nought avails it! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PLANTATION BACCHANAL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO MARK ANTHONY IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS APPRECIATION by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH VARIATIONS FOR A SUMMER EVENING by MICHAEL ANANIA TOMORROW by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MY PRETTY ROSE TREE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE |