I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a gracious hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young;
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me. Straightaway I was ‘ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,—
Guess now who holds thee?—Death, I said, But, there,
The silver answer rang,—Not Death, but Love.
(Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Life Poems, Sadness Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Youth Poems, Hair Poems, Charity Poems, Silver Poems, Mastery & Expertise PoemsBased on Keywords: wished-for, straightaway, theocritus, rang-, strove-