Sara Teasdale (8 August 1884 – 29 January 1933 / Missouri)

What a pointless poem! And it is not beautifully constructed - she alters the rhyme scheme in the second verse. That The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces is not surprising as she is dreaming of them as children. It would be a nightmare if they were children and had aged faces.

Oh what a beautiful poem of friends and days long past..a joy to read.. :)

Perfectly constructed. Delightful!

A beautiful poem, a masterpiece. One of my all time favourites.

Indeed dream serves as Time Machine to the past as well as the future too! Nice question to think about!

Strangely familiar. I too dream as though a child or teenager. A soft, touching piece which bridges the century between her childhood and our today.

Yes, they do, my sweet little child! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

notbad but in my opinion only satisfactory- I have read better poems on this site that I would rather see being poem of the week.
anonymous

Perhaps, in sleep-and the requirements of poetic theme-time, and rhyme schemes, are forgotten...

The middle verse jars a bit because of the absence of the rhyme pattern set in the first. One wonders at the personal context of such a sad retrospective poem.