A Girl's Autumn Reverie Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
A Girl's Autumn Reverie
We plucked a red rose, you and I
All in the summer weather;
Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom,
Enjoyed by us together.
The rose is dead, the summer fled,
And bleak winds are complaining;
We dwell apart, but in each heart
We find the thorn remaining.
We sipped a sweet wine, you and I,
All in the summer weather.
The beaded draught we lightly quaffed,
And filled the glass together.
Together we watched its rosy glow,
And saw its bubbles glitter;
Apart, alone, we only know
The lees are very bitter.
We walked in sunshine, you and I,
All in the summer weather.
The very night seemed noonday bright.
When we two were together.
I wonder why with our good-by
O'er hill and vale and meadow
There fell such shade, our paths seemed laid
Forevermore in shadow.
We dreamed a sweet dream, you and I,
All in the summer weather,
Where rose and wine and warm sunshine
Were mingled in together.
We dreamed that June was with us yet,
We woke to find December.
We dreamed that we two could forget,
We woke but to remember.
Fantastic beautiful poem, the summer is unforgettable, winter has arrived, but we are still dreaming of summer, truly a beautiful poem.5 Stars full
Excellent poem, poetically worded, such a very pleasurable read!
Congratulations being chosen as The Classic Poem Of The Day. Hoorray!
Beautiful poem of love. The dreams of lovers. Lovers are dreamers. And separation, the pains, the memories. "I woke to remember! " Loved it.
Poignant yet a beautiful poem of love adorned with compelling images and wonderful rhyme and rhythm
Congrats on POD. A passionate piece nicely embellished with poetic rhyme and rhythm......
Such a wonderful poem! Romantic but with a tinge of sadness.
congratulations for the poetic style used.Excellent deaming.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 11:28:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Two dreamers awaken in a dreamers world to simply remember so powerfully written and so beautifully displayed. Some poems are the stuff that dreams are made of. Simply sublime writing.