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Poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes


Departed Days


Yes, dear departed, cherished days,
Could Memory's hand restore
Your morning light, your evening rays,
From Time's gray urn once more,
Then might this restless heart be still,
This straining eye might close,
And Hope her fainting pinions fold,
While the fair phantoms rose.

But, like a child in ocean's arms,
We strive against the stream,
Each moment farther from the shore
Where life's young fountains gleam;
Each moment fainter wave the fields,
And wider rolls the sea;
The mist grows dark, the sun goes down,
Day breaks, and where are we?



Oliver Wendell Holmes


Oliver Wendell Holmes's other poems:
  1. Daily Trials
  2. Song (A HEALTH to dear woman! She bids us untwine)
  3. The Last Reader
  4. The September Gale
  5. A Song of Other Days


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