Author Arthur Symons She only knew the birth and death Of days, when each that died Was still at morn a hope, at night A hope unsatisfied. The dark trees shivered to behold Another day begin; She, being hopeless, did not weep As the grey dawn came in. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments