There is a change--and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.
What happy moments did I count!
Blest was I then all bliss above!
Now, for that consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I? Shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden well.
A well of love--it may be deep--
I trust it is,--and never dry:
What matter? If the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
--Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
William Wordsworth's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Complaint by William Wordsworth )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- One In A Million, Michael McParland
- Oh What A Fool, Michael McParland
- Oh Praise And Rejoice, Michael McParland
- Obsessive/Oblivious, Michael McParland
- Numb, Michael McParland
- Nothing Matters, Michael McParland
- No One Comes, Michael McParland
- Never Ending, Michael McParland
- When the Heart Skips a Beat, Danusha Marie
- Nervous Wreck, Michael McParland