An Answer.

When passing years have streaked with frost
    These tresses now as jet,
When life's meridian is crossed
    And beauty's sun has set,
When youth's last fleeting charm is lost,
    Wilt thou be constant yet,
Nor time thy sentiment exhaust
    And cause thee to forget?
        If so--
    My answer, I confess,
        Shall be a calm, decided "Yes";
    But otherwise a "No"!

Alfred Castner King

Alfred Castner King was an American poet. He is recognized for his significant contributions to American poetry. Despite battling with blindness, his disability did not deter him from crafting poetry that captivated many readers. King often wrote about nature and personal experiences, reflecting a deep appreciation for the world around him and the nuances of human emotion.

Alfred Castner King

To Mother Huberta.

Alfred Castner King, Simple Poetry

In Mortem Meditare.

Alfred Castner King, Simple Poetry

Love's Plea.

Alfred Castner King, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Shall Love, as the Bridal Wreath, Whither and Die?

Shall love as the bridal wreath, wither and die?
    Or remain ever constant and sure,
As the years of the future pass rapidly by,
And the waves of adversity's tempest roll high,
    Ever changeless and fervent endure?

Mistake not the fancy, that lasts but a day,
    For the love which eternally thrives;
That sentiment false, is as prone to decay
As the wreath is to fade and to wither away;
    And like it, it never revives.

Alfred Castner King

Change.

        Changed? Yes, I will confess it - I have changed.
    I do not love in the old fond way.
        I am your friend still - time has not estranged
    One kindly feeling of that vanished day.

        But the bright glamour which made life a dream,
    The rapture of that time, its sweet content,
        Like visions of a sleeper's brain they seem -
    And yet I cannot tell you how they went.

        Why do you gaze with such accusing eyes
    Upon me, dear? Is it so very strange
        That hearts, like all things underneath God's skies
    Should sometimes feel the influence of change?

        The birds, the flowers, the foliage of the trees,
    The stars which seem so fixed and so sublime,
        Vast continents and the eternal seas -
...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Answer

A Rose, in tatters on the garden path,
Cried out to God and murmured 'gainst His Wrath,
Because a sudden wind at twilight's hush
Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush.
And God, Who hears both sun-dried dust and sun,
Had pity, whispering to that luckless one,
"Sister, in that thou sayest We did not well,
What voices heardst thou when thy petals fell?"
And the Rose answered, "In that evil hour
A voice said, `Father, wherefore falls the flower?
For lo, the very gossamers are still.'
And a voice answered, `Son, by Allah's will!'"

Then softly as a rain-mist on the sward,
Came to the Rose the Answer of the Lord:
"Sister, before We smote the Dark in twain,
Ere yet the stars saw one another plain,
Time, Tide, and Space, We bound unto the task
That thou...

Rudyard

Constancy In Change.

Could this early bliss but rest

Constant for one single hour!
But e'en now the humid West

Scatters many a vernal shower.
Should the verdure give me joy?

'Tis to it I owe the shade;
Soon will storms its bloom destroy,

Soon will Autumn bid it fade.

Eagerly thy portion seize,

If thou wouldst possess the fruit!
Fast begin to ripen these,

And the rest already shoot.
With each heavy storm of rain

Change comes o'er thy valley fair;
Once, alas! but not again

Can the same stream hold thee e'er.

And thyself, what erst at least

Firm as rocks appear'd to rise,
Walls and palaces thou seest

But with ever-changing eyes.
Fled for ever now the lip

That with kisses used to glo...

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In Mortem Meditare.

DYING THOUGHTS.


As Life's receding sunset fades
    And night descends,
I calmly watch the gathering shades,
As darkness stealthily invades
    And daylight ends.

Earth's span is drawing to its close,
    With every breath;
My pain-racked brain no respite knows,
Yet shrinks it, from the grim repose
    It feels in death.

The curtain falls on Life's last scene,
    The end is neared;
At last I face death's somber screen,
The fleeting joys which intervene
    Have disappeared.

And as a panoramic scroll
    The past unreels;
The mocking past, beyond control,
Though buried, as a parchment roll,
    Its tale reveals.

I stand before the dread, unknown,
    Yet solemn fact;
I see the seeds of foll...

Alfred Castner King

An Answer.

        If all the year was summer time,
    And all the aim of life
        Was just to lilt on like a rhyme,
    Then I would be your wife.

        If all the days were August days,
    And crowned with golden weather,
        How happy then through green-clad ways
    We two could stray together!

        If all the nights were moonlit nights,
    And we had naught to do
        But just to sit and plan delights,
    Then I would wed with you.

        If life was all a summer fete,
    Its soberest pace the "glide,"
        Then I would choose you for my mate,
    And keep you at my side.

        But winter makes full half the year,
    And labor half of life,
        And all the laughter and good cheer
    Give place t...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox