This poem was included in the original 1915 edition.
IN the last spring I ever knew, In those last days, I sat in the forsaken orchard Where beyond fields of greenery shimmered The hills at Miller's Ford; Just to muse on the apple tree With its ruined trunk and blasted branches, And shoots of green whose delicate blossoms Were sprinkled over the skeleton tangle, Never to grow in fruit. And there was I with my spirit girded By the flesh half dead, the senses numb Yet thinking of youth and the earth in youth,-- Such phantom blossoms palely shining Over the lifeless boughs of Time. O earth that leaves us ere heaven takes us! Had I been only a tree to shiver With dreams of spring and a leafy youth, Then I had fallen in the cyclone Which swept me out of the soul's suspense Where it's neither earth nor heaven.
There are currently no comments for this epitaph. Be the first to add a comment!
We reserve the right to remove off-topic, inappropriate or markedly offensive comments. Although your e-mail address is required in case we need to contact you about your comment, we will not make your e-mail address visible to the public, share it with third parties, or use it to send unsolicited messages.
