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(6 February 1876 - 13 June 1941 / Clare Castle)

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Afterglow

A magic wrought of dying dreams
A wizard light that creeps and glows;
Painting grey hills and sluggish streams
In tints of gold and rose

Staining with fire the cherry-snow
Lighting our hearts with sudden flame
As if the love of long ago
Back from its ashes came

Rose-flushed and radiant everything
And joy and hope are born anew;
Even the darting swallow's wing
Has caught its glowing hue

Ah! swift it dies from hill and plain...
Be wise dear heart and let me go;
Not love that lit our hearts again -
Only it's afterglow!

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004


Read poems about / on: magic, rose, snow, joy, fire, hope, light, love, heart, dream

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Comments about this poem (Grass by Alice Guerin Crist )

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  • Allison Helman (6/19/2012 10:07:00 PM)

    Like telling an opal it only looks like love, can only be a stone and watching it die of remorse

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  • Being Matrix (10/12/2011 1:52:00 AM)

    Oh how true!
    I'm ought to have atleast 20 characters to write this comment. But just an 'amazing' would do.

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