Spring and Fall: To a Young Child

Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving By and by? Leaves like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? As the heart grows older It will come to such sights much colder By and by, nor spare a sigh By and by Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie And yet you wíll weep and you'll know why No matter, child, the name Sorrow's spríngs are all the same They're all the same Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost had guessed It is the blight man was born for It is Margaret that you mourn for