HOW many summers, love, <br /> Have I been thine? <br />How many days, thou dove, <br /> Hast thou been mine? <br />Time, like the winged wind <br /> When ’t bends the flowers, <br />Hath left no mark behind, <br /> To count the hours. <br /> <br />Some weight of thought, though loth, <br /> On thee he leaves; <br />Some lines of care round both <br /> Perhaps he weaves; <br />Some fears,—a soft regret <br /> For joys scarce known; <br />Sweet looks we half forget;— <br /> All else is flown! <br /> <br />Ah!—With what thankless heart <br /> I mourn and sing! <br />Look, where our children start, <br /> Like sudden Spring! <br />With tongues all sweet and low, <br /> Like a pleasant rhyme, <br />They tell how much I owe <br /> To thee and Time!<br /><br />Barry Cornwall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poet-s-song-to-his-wife/
