November 7, 2008


  • Friendship After Love

     

    After the fierce midsummer all ablaze

    Has burned itself to ashes, and expires

    In the intensity to its own fires,

    There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days

    Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.

    So after Love has led us, till he tires

    Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,

    Come large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,

    He beckon us to follow, and across

    Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.

    Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?

    Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?

    We do not wihs the pain back, or the heat;

    And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.

     

    Ella Wheeler Wilcox

     

     

Comments (3)

Post a Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *