Thursday, August 31, 2006

By Muriel Stuart

When, on an empty night in later years
Thou ponderest over sorrowful sweet things,
While troubling with cold hands the muted strings
Of Memory's lute now silent in thine ears,
These words shall sweep with soft descent of tears--
Shall wound the air with sudden thrust of wings
Bringing the Past to thee as Winter brings
To naked boughs the colour April wears.
Thou shalt read over, in less fortunate days,
Forgotten pages till thy heart be moved
To sudden pity and to passionate praise
Of what thou didst not heed nor understand;
Letting the book drop from thy trembling hand,
"Once," thou shalt say and pause . . . "How I was loved!"


samuru999 said...

That is a beautiful poem Don!
She was quite a poet!

Kathleen said...

WOW... that is amazing... Wow... Wow... that is all I can say,... Wow...

Thank you Don...

Kathleen said...

I thought you wrote this..! :) still Wow... :) So lovely... thanks Don...

Pat Paulk said...

Great poem Don. Thanks for sharing it!!

Don Iannone said...

Margie, Kathleen, and Pat...Nope not me...a real poet wrote this. One of my favorites. Thanks for stopping by. I'll put one of my own up shortly.

starry nights said...

Beautiful Don.never heard of htis poetess before.

dumbdodi said...

Great find..thanks for sharing

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