Where are the songs I used to know, Where are the notes I used to sing? I have forgotten everything I used to know so long ago; Summer has followed after Spring; Now Autumn is so shrunk and sere, I scarcely think a sadder thing Can be the Winter of my year. Yet Robin sings thro' Winter's rest, When bushes put their berries on; While they their ruddy jewels don, He sings out of a ruddy breast; The hips and haws and ruddy breast Make one spot warm where snowflakes lie, They break and cheer the unlovely rest Of Winter's pause -- and why not I? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RETURN (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BIRTH OF VENUS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE LITANY OF THE DARK PEOPLE by COUNTEE CULLEN THE CRESCENT MOON by AMY LOWELL ON A YOUNG LADY'S SIXTH ANNIVERSARY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SONNET by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |