THIS year -- next year -- sometime -- never, Gayly did she tell; Rose-leaf after rose-leaf ever Eddied round and fell. This year -- and she blushed demurely; That would be too soon; He could wait a little, surely, 'T is already June. Next year -- that's almost too hurried, Laughingly said she; For when once a girl is married, She no more is free. Sometime -- that is vague -- long waiting Many a trouble brings; 'Twixt delaying and debating Love might use its wings. Never -- word of evil omen, And she sighed, heigh-ho, -- 'T is the hardest lot for women Lone through life to go. Next year -- early in the May-time, Was to be the day; Looked she sweetly toward that gay time Gleaming far away. Never -- fair with bridal flowers Came that merry spring; Ere those bright and radiant hours She had taken wing. This year -- hearts are bound by sorrow; Next year -- some forget; Sometime -- comes that golden morrow; Never -- earth say yet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAUGHTER (YOUTH SPEAKS TO HIS OWN OLD AGE) by CONRAD AIKEN THE IMPOSSIBLE INDISPENSIBILITY OF THE ARS POETICA by HAYDEN CARRUTH ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST GEOMETRY IS THE MIND OF GOD by JAMES GALVIN HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 1. VIETNAM by KAREN SWENSON SPRING'S NEBRASKA by KAREN SWENSON |