Gone Poem by Henrik Johan Ibsen
Gone
Rating: ★2.5
THE last, late guest
To the gate we followed;
Goodbye -- and the rest
The night-wind swallowed.
House, garden, street,
Lay tenfold gloomy,
Where accents sweet
Had made music to me.
It was but a feast
With the dark coming on;
She was but a guest --
And now, she is gone.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: goodbye
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8/5/2026 12:23:06 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
