All That's Past

Very old are the woods;
And the buds that break
Out of the brier's boughs,
When March winds wake,
So old with their beauty are--
Oh, no man knows
Through what wild centuries
Roves back the rose.
Very old are the brooks;
And the rills that rise
Where snow sleeps cold beneath
The azure skies
Sing such a history
Of come and gone,
Their every drop is as wise
As Solomon.

Very old are we men;
Our dreams are tales
Told in dim Eden
By Eve's nightingales;
We wake and whisper awhile,
But, the day gone by,
Silence and sleep like fields
Of amaranth lie.

by Walter de la Mare

Comments (12)

Celebrate is a very gorgeous poem
Lovely poem. Can't help wondering why she altered her rhyme pattern in the last stanza. Someone gave Olympic champion pairs figure skater Gordeeva a book of Akhmatova poetry when she was in America, and it made her homesick for Russia!
Recalling and portraying that cold winter wedding night is just outstanding. Looks like an anniversary gift for the occasion. Thanks. I quote: that winter night of diamantine splendour. and where we are heading – I don’t know.
Totally filled line by line word by word with unadulterated beauty. I want to read more by this poet
That's how the first stanza will appear in literal Chinese: do joy each year - no see night snow first winter every road tree night stars sky
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