Once, when I wandered in the woods alone, <br />An old man tottered up to me and said, <br />“Come, friend, and see the grave that I have made <br />For Amaryllis.” There was in the tone <br />Of his complaint such quaver and such moan <br />That I took pity on him and obeyed, <br />And long stood looking where his hands had laid <br />An ancient woman, shrunk to skin and bone. <br /> <br />Far out beyond the forest I could hear <br />The calling of loud progress, and the bold <br />Incessant scream of commerce ringing clear; <br />But though the trumpets of the world were glad, <br />It made me lonely and it made me sad <br />To think that Amaryllis had grown old.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/amaryllis/
