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MÁRGARÉT, áre you gríeving | |
Over Goldengrove unleaving? | |
Leáves, líke the things of man, you | |
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? | |
Áh! ás the heart grows older | 5 |
It will come to such sights colder | |
By and by, nor spare a sigh | |
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; | |
And yet you wíll weep and know why. | |
Now no matter, child, the name: | 10 |
Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same. | |
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed | |
What heart heard of, ghost guessed: | |
It ís the blight man was born for, | |
It is Margaret you mourn for.
And here is a companion poem from a different
author and century
Nothing Gold Can Stay
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by Robert Frost |
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Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
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- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19977#sthash.bmNAsovi.dpuf |
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