Sunday, 27 March 2011

From a VINTAGE POEM collections

To a young child

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?

Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder

By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep know why.

Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.

Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:

It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

by : Hopkins - 1880



Jennifer said...

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Have a Super Great Day!!

Summer Gypsy said...

Hi there!!! Thanks for stopping by today and your sweet comment. Thanks for following me, too. I love vintage poems. This one is so profound. Thanks for sharing! Looking forward to following your posts.