Too Late
Edith Nesbit 1858 (Kennington, Surrey ) – 1924 (New Romney, Kent)
WHEN Love, sweet Love, was tangled in my snare
I clipped his wings, and dressed his cage with flowers,
Made him my little joy for little hours,
And fed him when I had a song to spare.
And then I saw how good life's good things were,
The kingdoms and the glories and the powers.
Flowers grew in sheaves and stars were shed in showers,
And, when the great things wearied, Love was there.
But when, within his cage, one winter day
I found him lying still with folded wings,
No longer fluttering, eager to be fed--
Kingdoms and powers and glories passed away,
And of life's countless, precious, priceless things
Nothing was left but Love--and Love was dead!
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 36 sec read
- 85 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABBAXBBA CDECDE |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 661 |
Words | 121 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 6 |
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"Too Late" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 20 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/9043/too-late>.
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