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User Rating:
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4.6
/10
(7 votes)
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All my past life is mine no more,
The flying hours are gone,
Like transitory dreams giv'n o'er,
Whose images are kept in store
By memory alone.
The time that is to come is not;
How can it then be mine?
The present moment's all my lot;
And that, as fast as it is got,
Phyllis, is only thine.
Then talk not of inconstancy,
False hearts, and broken vows;
If I, by miracle, can be
This live-long minute true to thee,
'Tis all that Heav'n allows.
John Wilmot
| Submitted Date |
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Thursday, January 01, 2004 |
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Read poems about / on: memory, alone, time, life, dream
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Comments about this poem (Love and Life
by
John Wilmot
) |
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Yulissa Fregoso (4/16/2010 5:59:00 PM)
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Ive read alot of poems about love and Im might be only 11 but love is so powerful Its so hard to explain and this poem is my favoeite becuase IT ROCKSSSS! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
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