What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
You really know how to bring verse and image together. This image really does work so well, although in my mind I'm prompted to envision a much older woman's lament. I do love your interpretation though.
I CAN'T believe you have posted this poem. I have been watching along as everyone posts their wonderful pictures and words. Yesterday evening I was going to post this very poem (my absolute favourite poem ever) to see if anybody wanted to find a picture to go with it. quite spooky........ (well to me at least!)
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