Sonnets : a sequence on profane love by George Henry Boker | ||
132
[CCXXX. When I review the long procession gone]
When I review the long procession goneOut of this being through the gates of death—
The parents, friends, the hearts that drew their breath
In more than semblance, for my sake alone;
When I contemplate each memorial stone,
Placed like fate's finger on the dust beneath,
And hang on each my sorrow's votive wreath,
I feel, alas, how far my days have flown!
Aged I feel, for all my body's might,
For all the days that yet may be in store—
Aged and woebegone, and bankrupt quite;
As some poor straggler, wounded and footsore,
Left by the wayside, sees how more and more
His passing comrades vanish from his sight.
April 30, 1867
Sonnets : a sequence on profane love by George Henry Boker | ||