The End of Love

 Now he is dead
How should I know
My true love's arms
From wind and snow?

No man I meet
In field or house
Though in the street
A hundred pass.


The hurrying dust
Has never a face,
No longer human
In man or woman.


Now he is gone
Why should I mourn
My true love more than mud,
than mud or stone?

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...