TO MY WIFE

J.V. Cunningham

Read by Julio dela Cruz

And does the heart grow old? You know

In the indiscriminate green

Of summer or in earliest snow

A landscape is another scene,

Inchoate and anonymous,

And every rock and bush and drift

As our affections alter us

Will alter with the season’s shift.

So love by love we come at last,

As through the exclusions of a rhyme,

Or the exactions of a past,

To the simplicity of time,

The antiquity of grace, where yet

We live in terror and delight

With love as quiet as regret

And love like anger in the night.

back | top | next