Previous Poem  |  Return to the Poetry index page  |  Next Poem Late Love by Lionel Pigot Johnson (1887) When I had thought to make an home with sorrow, A gentle, melancholy dwelling; And there to linger life with telling Over old fancies of some fair to-morrow: Sudden, there broke about my way Laughter, and flowers, and break of day. Sing, Guardian Angel! One is come, who takes me Home to the land of loving voices: And there my risen heart rejoices To tell each sorrow over, that forsakes me; And all the unimagined songs, That a child's carolling voice prolongs. Previous Poem  |  Return to the Poetry index page  |  Next Poem

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