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Poem by William Ernest Henley


* * *


The spring, my dear,
Is no longer spring.
Does the blackbird sing
What he sang last year?
Are the skies the old
Immemorial blue?
Or am I, or are you,
Grown cold?

Though life be change,
It is hard to bear
When the old sweet air
Sounds forced and strange.
To be out of tune,
Plain You and I . . .
It were better to die,
And soon! 



                      William Ernest Henley


William Ernest Henley's other poems:
  1. London Types: Bus Driver
  2. A Wink from Hesper
  3. The Ways of Death Are Soothing and Serene
  4. Before
  5. There's a Regret


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