Spring
and Fall
Margaret
are you grieving
Over
Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves,
like the things of man, you
With
your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah!
as the heart grows older
It
will come to such sights colder
By
and by, nor spare a sigh
Though
worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And
yet you will weep and know why.
Now
no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's
springs are the same.
Nor
mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What
heart heard of, ghost gussed:
It
is the blight man was born for,
It
is Margaret you mourn for.
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