Change

Sometimes, when after spirited debate Of letters or affairs, in thought I go Smiling unto myself, and all aglow With some immediate purpose, and elate As if my little, trivial scheme were great, And what I would so were already so: Suddenly I think of her that died, and know, Whatever friendly or unfriendly fate Befall me in my hope or in my pride, It is all nothing but a mockery, And nothing can be what it used to be, When I could bid my happy life abide, And build on earth for perpetuity, Then, in the deathless days before she died.

Collection: 
English
William Dean Howells

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