Cor Mio

Still sometimes in my secret heart of hearts
I say " Cor mio " when I remember you,
And thus I yield us both one tender due,
Welding one whole of two divided parts.
Ah Friend, too wise or unwise for such arts,
Ah noble Friend, silent and strong and true,
Would you have given me roses for the rue
For which I bartered roses in love's marts?
So late in autumn one forgets the spring,
Forgets the summer with its opulence,
The callow birds that long have found a wing,
The swallows that more lately got them hence:
Will anything like spring, will anything
Like summer, rouse one day the slumbering sense?
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.