Surprised by joy- impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport-- Oh! with whom
But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind--
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss? -- That thought's return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.
About author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: english
- Born: April 7, 1770
- Died: April 23, 1850
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When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same thing," he said.
A. A. Milne
