 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
110
SONG
(A Fragment)
Is it gone forever, my gay spring time?
Shall I never be as I was then;
And this dead heart that once beat so wildly
Who shall wake it, can it wake again?
Shall I never be as I was then;
And this dead heart that once beat so wildly
Who shall wake it, can it wake again?
From that sea where joy lies buried, shall not
Something like its shadow flutter up!
The bright wine of life I quaffed so madly,
Hath it left no sweetness in the cup!
Something like its shadow flutter up!
The bright wine of life I quaffed so madly,
Hath it left no sweetness in the cup!
Yet it is not that my youth hath perished—
If I count by years, I am not old;
Of that youth I stripped the buds too early,
And its leafless stem is all I hold.
If I count by years, I am not old;
Of that youth I stripped the buds too early,
And its leafless stem is all I hold.
Oh! doth no new autumn yet await me?
Thus I question Fate, but Fate is mute.
Is it autumn? Where is autumn's foliage,
And its golden store of luscious fruit?
Thus I question Fate, but Fate is mute.
Is it autumn? Where is autumn's foliage,
And its golden store of luscious fruit?
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |