Once, when I wandered in the woods alone,
An old man tottered up to me and said,
“Come, friend, and see the grave that I have made
For Amaryllis.” There was in the tone
Of his complaint such quaver and such moan
That I took pity on him and obeyed,
And long stood looking where his hands had laid
An ancient woman, shrunk to skin and bone.
Far out beyond the forest I could hear
The calling of loud progress, and the bold
Incessant scream of commerce ringing clear;
But though the trumpets of the world were glad,
It made me lonely and it made me sad
To think that Amaryllis had grown old.
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Comments
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Such sorrow within these lines. I have been to this place, where there is love that never grew old. I hear the wind's song in the branches, knowing he hears my heart. Thank you for featuring this one. I've always admired his work. Wanda
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Robinson's excellent Italian sonnets were--however unlikey--a huge influence on the sonnets of H.P. Lovecraft's "Fungi From Yuggoth".
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Thank you Eusebius, for showing me this poem! I had no idea E.A.R. wrote so beautiful sonnets that they make one ache with wonder!
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