It was a Spring that never came, but we have lived enough to know what we have never had remains. It is the things we have that go.
A little while when I am gone
My life will live in music after me,
As spun foam lifted and borne on
After the wave is lost in the full sea.
A while these nights and days will burn
In song with the bright frailty of foam,
Living in light before they turn
Back to the nothingness that is their home.
Life is a frail moth flying
Caught in the web of the years that pass.
I shall not let a sorrow die until I find the heart of it, nor let a wordless joy go by until it talks to me a bit.
Wondering Whom to Read Next?
- Mark Van Doren American Poet, Critic
- Sylvia Plath American Poet, Novelist
- Marianne Moore American Poet
- Gwendolyn Brooks American Poet, Educator
- Carolyn Kizer American Poet
- Julia Ward Howe American Poet, Author
- Carol Shields Canadian Author, Academic
- Clarissa Pinkola Estes American Poet
- Annie Dillard American Writer
- Joyce Carol Oates American Novelist