Explore "Not Quite the Same" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Not quite the same the spring-time seems to me, / Since that sad season when in separate ways / Our paths diverged. There are no more such days / As dawned for us in that lost time when we / Dwelt in the realm of dreams, illusive dreams; / Spring may be just as fair now, but it seems / Not quite the same.
Not quite the same is life, since we two parted, / Knowing it best to go our ways alone. / Fair measures of success we both have known, / And pleasant hours, and yet something departed / Which gold, nor fame, nor anything we win / Can all replace. And either life has been / Not quite the same.