To -- (I)

I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath—little of Earth in it,
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute:
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer-by.

Did You Enjoy This Poem?

This poem is currently rated 1 / 5.
1. I did not enjoy it at all!
2. It was below my expectations
3. It was passable
4. It was quite good
5. I thoroughly enjoyed it!

Save This Poem

Return to: