Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By & by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep & know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
x 0,
this is my favorite poem of all time,when i hear it/read it, i think of how everyone's childhood is like this, we ask why!? why do things die? why do they fall? ect ect. butm most adults say*dont cry, its only the seasons, they shall be back in the fall* but gerard didnt give sympathy to margaret he gave her the bare facts, im only 14 but this is my FAVORITE poet and FAVORITE poem, i found him about 6 months ago on school assignment. but he is much more then a grade to me! and hopefully he is to more people
we all must mourn for our lost childhoods.

