IN THIS fair stranger’s eyes of grey
Thine eyes, my love, I see.
I shudder: for the passing day
Had borne me far from thee.
This is the curse of life: that not
A nobler calmer train
Of wiser thoughts and feelings blot
Our passions from our brain;
But each day brings its petty dust
Our soon-chok’d souls to fill,
And we forget because we must,
And not because we will.
I struggle towards the light; and ye,
Once-long’d-for storms of love!
If with the light ye cannot be,
I bear that ye remove.
I struggle towards the light; but oh,
While yet the night is chill,
Upon Time’s barren, stormy flow,
Stay with me, Marguerite, still!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Absence by Matthew Arnold )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Poem to Some of My Recent Poems, James Tate
- Life is too Short for Love, Akhtar Jawad
- On the Subject of Doctors, James Tate
- Failed Tribute to the Stonemason of Tor .., James Tate
- A Wedding, James Tate
- I am not a religious and god centric:, binod bastola
- Call from Cupid, binod bastola
- A Vagabond, James Tate
- Wisdom or Behaviour!, Dr.V.K. Kanniappan
- Bright Pink Lipstick, Electric Lady