Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev (5 December 1803 – 27 July 1873 / Ovstug)
It's There, Still There
It's there, still there, a past love's madness,
Dull pain and longing my heart fill.
Your image, hid amid the shadows
Of memory, lives in me still.
I think of it with endless yearning,
'Tis e'er with me though from me far,
Unreachable, unchanged, bright-burning
As in the sky of night a star...
Comments about this poem (It's There, Still There by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings