| to a young child | |
| MÁRGARÉT, áre you gríeving | |
| Over Goldengrove unleaving? | |
| Leáves, líke the things of man, you | 5 |
| With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? | |
| Áh! ás the heart grows older | |
| It will come to such sights colder | |
| By and by, nor spare a sigh | |
| Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; | 10 |
| And yet you wíll weep and know why. | |
| Now no matter, child, the name: | |
| Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same. | |
| Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed | |
| What heart heard of, ghost guessed: | 15 |
| It ís the blight man was born for, | |
| It is Margaret you mourn for. |