Not quite the same the springtime seems to me, <br /> Since that sad season when in separate ways <br /> Our paths diverged. There are no more such days <br />As dawned for us in that last time when we <br />Dwelt in the realm of dreams, illusive dreams; <br />Spring may be just as fair now, but it seems <br /> Not quite the same. <br /> <br />Not quite the same in life, since we two parted, <br /> Knowing it best to go our ways alone. <br /> Fair measures of success we both have known, <br />And pleasant hours; and yet something departed <br />Which gold, nor fame, nor anything we win, <br />Can all replace. And either life has been <br /> Not quite the same. <br /> <br />Love is not quite the same, although each heart <br /> Has formed new ties, that are both sweet and true; <br /> But that wild rapture, which of old we knew, <br />Seems to have been a something set apart <br />With that lost dream. There is no passion, now, <br />Mixed with this later love, which seems, somehow, <br /> Not quite the same. <br /> <br />Not quite the same am I. My inner being <br /> Reasons and knows that all is for the best. <br /> Yet vague regrets stir always in my breast, <br />As my souls eyes turn sadly backward, seeing <br />The vanished self, that evermore must be, <br />This side of what we call eternity, <br /> Not quite the same.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-quite-the-same/
