Author Lewis Cook Is there no moon? Is the spring not the spring of the past? I alone am as I was . . . . With the first faint glow of dawn, he went home, still weeping. Tags Short Poems 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