What shall I tell you, child, in this new Sonnet? <br />Life's art is to forget, and last year's sowing <br />Cast in Time's furrow with the storm winds blowing <br />Bears me a wild crop with strange fancies on it. <br />Last year I wore your sole rose in my bonnet. <br />This year--who knows--who, even the All--knowing, <br />What to my vagrant heart, for its undoing, <br />Of weeds shall blossom ere my tears atone it? <br />--New Spring is in the air with new desirings; <br />New wonders fructify Earth, Sea, and Heaven, <br />And happy birds sing loud from a new nest. <br />Ah, why then grieve Love's recreant aspirings, <br />His last year's hopes, his vows forgot, forgiven? <br />Child, be we comforted! New things are best.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/new-things-are-best/
