Amaryllis by Edwin Arlington Robinson — Read

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

An 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 that Amaryllis had grown old.