This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere, <br />The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old work <br />Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, <br />That never touch with inarticulate pang <br />Those dying generations-at their song. <br />The One remains, the many change and pass <br />The expiring swan, and as he sings he dies. <br />The earth, the stars, the light, the day, the skies, <br />A white-haired shadow roaming like a dream <br />Limitless out of the dusk, out of the cedars and pines, <br />Think not of them, thou hast thy music too- <br />Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery, <br />If but some vengeful god would call to me, <br />Because I could not stop for Death, <br />Not to return. Earth's the right place for love. <br />My playmate, when we both were clothed alike, <br />Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, <br />Suffer my genial spirits to decay <br />Upon the bridal day, which is not long? <br />I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.<br /><br />David Lehman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/december-14/
