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Amaryllis
#1
Amaryllis

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
And 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 hat Amaryllis had grown old
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