I learnt to write to you in happier days,
And every letter was a piece I chipped
From off my heart, a fragment newly clipped
From the mosaic of life; its blues and grays,
Its throbbing reds, I gave to earn your praise.
To make a pavement for your feet I stripped
My soul for you to walk upon, and slipped
Beneath your steps to soften all your ways.
But now my letters are like blossoms pale
We strew upon a grave with hopeless tears.
I ask no recompense, I shall not fail
Although you do not heed; the long, sad years
Still pass, and still I scatter flowers frail,
And whisper words of love which no one hears.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Aftermath by Amy Lowell )
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
- आंखौ दाबावदे सना, Bahadur Basumatary
- No Choice, Elia Michael
- Bury My Unwillingness, Margaret Alice Second
- An advice, Somanathan Iyer
- Too long, too short, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Its been four months now, Vangile Mtyali
- Word of Poetry, Vangile Mtyali
- Life means, Somanathan Iyer
- Just for vegan, SALINI NAIR
- Drop In The Bucket, Michael McParland