35 Nostalgic Poems About Missing Your Ex Boyfriend (+ My #1)

These poems are a testament to the universal experience of missing someone special and serve as a reminder that even in heartbreak, there is still beauty to be found in words.

Whether you’re seeking solace, finding closure, or simply indulging in the power of poetry, this compilation will take you on a poetic journey through the depths of missing your ex-boyfriend.

Let’s get straight to it!

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My #1 Favorite Poem About Missing Your Ex Boyfriend

a sad lady in a peach dress sitting on the window pane

“Renouncement” by Alice Meynell

I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,
I shun the thought that lurks in all delight—
The thought of thee—and in the blue Heaven’s height,
And in the sweetest passage of a song.

Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng
This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.

But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,

Must doff my will as raiment laid away,—
With the first dream that comes with the first sleep
I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.

Why Is “Renouncement” My Favorite Poem About Missing Your Ex Boyfriend

a gloomy blonde woman dressed in green standing in front of a pine tree in a misty forest

“Renouncement” is such a beautiful and genuine sonnet that shines a light on the author’s vulnerability and raw emotions as she shares her thoughts about someone she’s struggling to forget.

I appreciate the simple yet striking words Meynell uses to describe the pain she’s going through while trying her best to stop thinking about the person she still loves.

The way she honestly and sincerely portrays her feelings creates a strong emotional connection between the reader and the poem.

Truly, this classic piece captures the essence of missing an ex-boyfriend in a way that resonates deeply with readers from all walks of life.

Short Poems About Missing Your Ex Boyfriend

a sad young beautiful woman in summer dress in poppies field

Sometimes, when the heart yearns for what it has lost, the words become its solace.

In this collection of short poems, we traverse the bittersweet landscape of missing an ex-boyfriend, where emotions intertwine with memories, and the past dances with the present.

“Sonnet II” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,—so with his memory they brim!
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, “There is no memory of him here!”
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

“Decision” by Katharine Forrest Hamill

At times, I think, were we to talk it over
The something wanting in your life and mine,
We might arrive at clearer understanding
The cause of our unhappiness define.

Yet, ever with the impulse strong upon me
Such course to follow out as for the best,
Comes swift the contradictory impression,—
’Twould useless be to put it to the test.

That sympathy which pleads when souls are mated
Is the so woefully lacking,—’tis clear,
It could not prove aught else than effort wasted,—
You are so far,—to try and draw you near.

“Longing” by Paul Laurence Dunbar

If you could sit with me beside the sea to-day,
And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o’er and o’er;
I think I should not find the clouds so dim and gray,
And not so loud the waves complaining at the shore.

If you could sit with me upon the shore to-day,
And hold my hand in yours as in the days of old,
I think I should not mind the chill baptismal spray,
Nor find my hand and heart and all the world so cold.

If you could walk with me upon the strand to-day,
And tell me that my longing love had won your own,
I think all my sad thoughts would then be put away,
And I could give back laughter for the Ocean’s moan!

a woman with red floral head wreath sitting by the window with eyes closed while holding a flower

“Song” by Mathilde Blind

Thou walkest with me as the spirit-light
Of the hushed moon, high o’er a snowy hill,
Walks with the houseless traveller all the night,
When trees are tongueless and when mute the rill.
Moon of my soul, O phantom of delight,
Thou walkest with me still.

The vestal flame of quenchless memory burns
In my soul’s sanctuary. Yea, still for thee
My bitter heart hath yearned, as moonward yearns
Each separate wave-pulse of the clamorous sea:
My moon of love, to whom for ever turns
That life that aches through me.

“Remembrance” by Jean Blewett

“Once they were lovers,” says the world, “with young hearts all aglow;
They have forgotten,” says the world, “forgotten long ago.”
Between ourselves – just whisper it – the old world does not know.

They walk their lone, divided ways, but ever with them goes
Remembrance, the subtle breath of love’s sweet thorny rose.

“Song” by Sir Edwin Arnold

Nay! if thou must depart, thou shalt depart;
But why so soon, oh, heart-blood of my heart!
Go then! Yet, going, turn and stay thy feet,
That I may once more see that face so sweet.

Once more—if never more; for swift days go
As hastening waters from their fountains flow;
And whether yet again shall meeting be
Who knows? Who knows? Ah! turn once more to me!

a woman in a dusty pink dress with ethereal cherry blossom flowers

“The Garden Of Memory” by Justin Huntly McCarthy

There is a certain garden where I know
That flowers flourish in a poet’s spring,
Where aye young birds their amorous matins sing,
And never ill wind comes, nor any snow.

But if you wonder where so fair a show,
Where such eternal pleasure may be seen,
I say, my memory keeps that garden green,
Wherein I loved my first love long ago.

“After Two Days” by Eric Mackay

Another night has turned itself to day,
Another day has melted into eve,
And lo! again I tread the measured way
Of word and thought, the twain to interweave,
As flowers absorb the rays that they receive.
And, all along the woodland where I stray,
I think of thee, and Nature keeps me gay,
And sorrow soothes the soul it would bereave.
Nor will I fear that thou, so far apart,
So dear to me, so fair, and so benign,
Wilt un-desire the fealty of a heart
Which evermore is pledg’d to thee and thine,
And turns to thee, in regions where thou art,
To hymn the praises of thy face divine!

“Song at Capri” by Sara Teasdale

When beauty grows too great to bear
How shall I ease me of its ache,
For beauty more than bitterness
Makes the heart break.

Now while I watch the dreaming sea
With isles like flowers against her breast,
Only one voice in all the world
Could give me rest.

Poems for Your Ex Boyfriend That You Still Love

a stunning lady in a white floral dress in a blooming garden at daylight

When love takes unexpected turns, it leaves behind a bittersweet residue that lingers in the heart.

These emotional verses dedicated to ex-boyfriends, explore the rollercoaster of emotions, from fond memories to lingering affection, as we navigate the complexities of love and heartbreak.

“I Love Thee Still” by George Pope Morris

I never have been false to thee!—
The heart I gave thee still is thine;
Though thou hast been untrue to me,
And I no more may call thee mine!
I’ve loved, as woman ever loves,
With constant soul in good or ill:
Thou’st proved as man too often proves,
A rover—but I love thee still!

Yet think not that my spirit stoops
To bind thee captive in my train!–
Love’s not a flower at sunset droops,
But smiles when comes her god again!
Thy words, which fall unheeded now,
Could once my heart-strings madly thrill!
Love a golden chain and burning vow
Are broken—but I love thee still!

Once what a heaven of bliss was ours,
When love dispelled the clouds of care,
And time went by with birds and flowers,
While song and incense filled the air!
The past is mine—the present thine—
Should thoughts of me thy future fill,
Think what a destiny is mine,
To lose—but love thee, false one, still!

“Requiescat” by Aquila

I try to picture thee afar,
In heaven’s spangled vault above,
I think thou art some holy star,
That nightly sheds its light of love.

I thought it were, when thou wert here,
Impossible to love thee more;
But now thy memory is so dear,
I feel ‘ twas feeble love I bore.

Why should I wish thee back to me
Again, in such a world as this,
So full of sin and misery,
Where things for ever go amiss?

I hear thy voice in every wind,
I see thy face in every flower,
Thy thoughts are furrowed in my mind,
And thou art with me every hour.

I feel thy presence ever bright,
A halo that will never die,
As in the tranquil summer night,
The late-set sun still streaks the sky.

The night is short-lo! eastward far
“Tis red already unto day;
My morning joy no cloud shall mar,
My heaviness shall pass away.

“Tired” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I am tired to-night, and something,
The wind maybe, or the rain,
Or the cry of a bird in the copse outside,
Has brought back the past and its pain.
And I feel, as I sit here thinking,
That the hand of a dead old June
Has reached out hold of my heart’s loose strings,
And is drawing them up in tune.

I am tired to-night, and I miss you,
And long for you, love, through tears;
And it seems but to-day that I saw you go—
You, who have been gone for years.
And I seem to be newly lonely—
I, who am so much alone;
And the strings of my heart are well in tune,
But they have not the same old tone.

I am tired; and that old sorrow
Sweeps down the bed of my soul,
As a turbulent river might sudden’y break
way from a dam’s control.
It beareth a wreck on its bosom,
A wreck with a snow-white sail;
And the hand on my heart strings thrums away,
But they only respond with a wail.

a young woman in a white dress in front of a window surrounded by lavender flowers

“Regrets” by Alice Meynell

As, when the seaward ebbing tide doth pour
Out by the low sand spaces,
The parting waves slip back to clasp the shore
With lingering embraces,—

So in the tide of life that carries me
From where thy true heart dwells,
Waves of my thoughts and memories turn to thee
With lessening farewells;

Waving of hands; dreams, when the day forgets;
A care half lost in cares;
The saddest of my verses; dim regrets;
Thy name among my prayers.

I would the day might come, so waited for,
So patiently besought,
When I, returning, should fill up once more
Thy desolated thought;

And fill thy loneliness that lies apart
In still, persistent pain.
Shall I content thee, O thou broken heart,
As the tide comes again,

And brims the little sea-shore lakes, and sets
Seaweeds afloat, and fills
The silent pools, rivers and rivulets
Among the inland hills?

“I Close Mine Eyes” by Katharine Forrest Hamill

I close mine eyes, and see you dear
As in the dear, dead days;
The tender grace, and strength of poise,
Marking you from the rest apart.
And oh! it seems as if I must
Enfold you to my heart.

I close mine eyes, and see you dear
As in the dear, dead days;
The hair’s soft fall over the brow,
Within your eyes love’s ardent light,
It cannot be! it cannot be!
My day has turned to night.

I close mine eyes, and see you dear
As in the dear, dead days;
Before love’s bitter aftermath
Whose penalty ’tis mine to know.
Oh! come to me from out its void!
I need you so! I need you so.

“The Philosopher” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

And what are you that, wanting you,
I should be kept awake
As many nights as there are days
With weeping for your sake?

And what are you that, missing you,
As many days as crawl
I should be listening to the wind
And looking at the wall?

I know a man that’s a braver man
And twenty men as kind,
And what are you, that you should be
The one man in my mind?

Yet women’s ways are witless ways,
As any sage will tell,—
And what am I, that I should love
So wisely and so well?

a lovely lady near blooming trees outdoor at daylight

“To—” by Frances Anne Butler

When the dawn
O’er hill and dale
Throws her bright veil,
Oh, think of me!
When the rain
With starry showers
Fills all the flowers,
Oh, think of me!
When the wind
Sweeps along,
Loud and strong,
Oh, think of me!
When the laugh
With silver sound
Goes echoing round,
Oh, think of me!
When the night
With solemn eyes
Looks from the skies,
Oh, think of me!
When the air
Still as death
Holds its breath,
Oh, think of me!
When the earth
Sleeping sound
Swings round and round,
Oh, think of me!
When thy soul
O’er life’s dark sea
Looks gloomily,
Oh, think of me!

“We Met In May” by Katharine Forrest Hamill

We met in May, I know you have forgotten,
Have long since put all thought of me away;
Yet in my heart the mem’ry ever lingers,—
We met in May.

Fragrant the air with redolence of blossom!
Matchless the sky of perfect, cloudless blue!
And oh! the music that the world was ringing—
When I met you.

Another has your fancy from me captured;
Her lot,—Fate’s tenderer impulse to know.
Whilst I, adown the years waiting the facing,
Alone, must go.

No thought is mine save that bequeaths a blessing;—
God grant your life be a long, happy day.
You have forgotten, but I must remember,—
We met in May.

“But Not to Me” by Sara Teasdale

The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
But not to me.

My peace is hidden in his breast
Where I shall never be;
Love comes to-night to all the rest,
But not to me.

a mysterious melancholic lady lying with eyes closed

“Echo” by Christina G. Rossetti

Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago!

“The Dream” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
But it is good to feel you there.

Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,—
White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere,
There was a shutter loose,—it screeched!

Swung in the wind,—and no wind blowing!—
I was afraid, and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort,—
And you were gone! Cold, cold as dew,

Under my hand the moonlight lay!
Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter,—
Ah, it is good to feel you there!

“Violets” by Richard Garnett

Cold blows the wind against the hill,
And cold upon the plain;
I sit me by the bank, until
The violets come again.

Here sat we when the grass was set
With violets shining through,
And leafing branches spread a net
To hold a sky of blue.

The trumpet clamoured from the plain,
The cannon rent the sky;
I cried, O Love, come back again,
Before the violets die!

But they are dead upon the hill,
And he upon the plain;
I sit me by the bank, until
My violets come again.

a lonely woman in a long red dress on a snowy path between trees with red flowers

“A Winter Night” by Sara Teasdale

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro,
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold.

“Buried Love” by Sara Teasdale

I have come to bury Love
Beneath a tree,
In the forest tall and black
Where none can see.

I shall put no flowers at his head,
Nor stone at his feet,
For the mouth I loved so much
Was bittersweet.

I shall go no more to his grave,
For the woods are cold.
I shall gather as much of joy
As my hands can hold.

I shall stay all day in the sun
Where the wide winds blow,—
But oh, I shall cry at night
When none will know.

Romantic Poems About Missing Your Ex Boyfriend

a stunning woman wearing a beautiful red dress in the garden

If you’ve ever experienced the bittersweet ache of missing an ex-boyfriend, then you know that love has a way of lingering long after a relationship ends.

In this compilation of romantic poems, we delve into the tender emotions and heartfelt longing that comes with reminiscing about a lost love, capturing the essence of those wistful moments with words that touch the soul.

“I Miss You” by Aquila

I miss you
Darling, every day!
‘Tis hard to hide and put away
The happy thoughts I used to think,
The love that, all unlooked for, grew.
‘Tis hard my risen Hope to sink,
And all the joy I had for you.
The precious gem I valued most
Dropt from its setting, —dropt and lost!
You cannot know the pain ‘ twill cost
To make believe that I forget:
The jewel in my heart was set,
I miss it, darling! every day,
I miss you!

I miss you
When the sun is low,
And clouds reflect the crimson glow;
I miss you through the summer night,
When soft winds sigh and streamlets flow;
When stars o’erhead are shining bright
Stars that we studied long ago.
And when the light of morning gleams
Across the hills, and woods, and streams,
And I awake from happy dreams
Of days that were, in vanished years;—
The sun, uprising, greets my tears.
By day, by night, I only know
I miss you!

I miss you,
But God’s will be done!
Some grief He gives to every one;
And some are weak, and some are strong,
And all must wait His guiding Hand.
The Judge of all can do no wrong!
His ways I cannot understand;
But I can pray, and hope, and wait,
That, be it soon, or be it late,
Here, or beyond th’ eternal gate,
You will come back to me again!
In love, like sunshine after rain.
His Kingdom come! His will be done!
I miss you!

“Song” by Aquila

The spring was green and lovely,
The fields were fresh and fair,
And the light of love from Heaven above
Fell softly everywhere;
And merrily, in the greenwood tree,
The wild birds sang their strain;
And my young heart beat with fulness sweet,
That will never come back again.

The summer days were golden,
Sweetly the roses grew;
And I dreamt one heart, did share a part
Ofthe happiness I knew.
As we sat in the shade the pine trees made,
When the day was nearly done,
And my hopes were bright as the wond’rous light
Ofthe slowly sinking sun.

In the still autumn evening
I sit alone and dream;
While, like a pall, the shadows fall
On the sunlight of the stream.
And seared and brown, the leaves float down,
While the naked boughs remain;
And the hopes have flown that my heart has known,
They will never come back again!

“To-Day I Miss You” by John Presland

To-day I miss you … “Only for to-day,
Some little matter of hours and nothing more.”
That at least the worldly-wise folk say,
Who’ve never waited for the opening door,
The greeting look, the known step on the floor;
Who’ve never missed a loved one like a lover.

To-day I miss you. What to-morrow brings
Is the other side of all the stars, God knows!
Only to have you here, now evening swings
Its quiet shadow round the globe again,
And in our talk of old familiar things,
And in familiar gestures, turn of brain,
Looks, tone of voice, I may discern again
That union from which alone love grows.

We’d close the curtains;—while the world outside,
Noisily autumn, makes a sense of peace
Deeper within,—open the bookcase wide
And take a book out; then another book,
And then another…. “Here’s a favourite, look!
We cannot pass him.” … Then from reading cease,
Gossip and laugh, with finger in the page,
And challenge thought with thought, and mind with mind
Each speaking freely, that we might increase
Some knowledge to which, singly, we were blind.

So goes the evening. Side by side we stand,
Dear friends and brothers, till, a sudden pause,
Or kindly, almost careless touch of hands,
Swings us to face each other, and we feel
Those deepest stirrings of the human heart
Man has no name for yet, those changeless laws
Of more than mating—that eternal part
Our body is aware of, and our brain,
Unchallenging with reason, must receive,
That sense of intimate wonder!—Now again,
The blinds are drawn; lamp, books, chairs, all retain
Familiar aspects, but, you absent, leave
The room all empty, empty all the day.

a sad but beautiful young woman in a dress walking in a field of lavender

“Enough” by Sara Teasdale

It is enough for me by day
To walk the same bright earth with him;
Enough that over us by night
The same great roof of stars is dim.

I do not hope to bind the wind
Or set a fetter on the sea—
It is enough to feel his love
Blow by like music over me.

“Communism” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

When my blood flows calm as a purling river,
When my heart is asleep and my brain has sway,
It is then that I vow we must part forever,
That I will forget you, and put you away
Out of my life, as a dream is banished
Out of the mind when the dreamer awakes;
That I know it will be, when the spell has vanished,
Better for both of our sakes.

When the court of the mind is ruled by Reason,
I know it is wiser for us to part;
But Love is a spy who is plotting treason,
In league with that warm, red rebel, the Heart.
They whisper to me that the King is cruel,
That his reign is wicked, his law a sin;
And every word they utter is fuel
To the flame that smoulders within.

And on nights like this, when my blood runs riot
With the fever of youth and its mad desires,
When my brain in vain bids my heart be quiet,
When my breast seems the centre of lava-fires,
Oh, then is the time when most I miss you,
And I swear by the stars and my soul and say
That I will have you and hold you and kiss you,
Though the whole world stands in the way.

And like Communists, as mad, as disloyal,
My fierce emotions roam out of their lair;
They hate King Reason for being royal;
They would fire his castle, and burn him there.
Oh, Love! they would clasp you and crush you and kill you,
In the insurrection of uncontrol.
Across the miles, does this wild war thrill you
That is raging in my soul?

“I Turned Me Down A Lighted Way” by Katharine Forrest Hamill

I turn me down a lighted way
Where laughter rings and song floats out;
And, as I gain the happy throng,
All eagerly they flock about.

I smile on this side, and on that,
Join the gay flow of repartee:
Yet, deep, deep down, within my heart
Echoes the endless moan for thee.

I hark to him who compliments,
Within my eyes a sparkling light.
I play the game,—nor does he guess
Its fire has burned to ashes white.

They count me merriest of all.
Not one who notes the deep-down sigh,
Who lists—Life’s tragic undertone,—
We’ve said good-bye—we’ve said good-bye.

an enchanting woman with a bouquet of flowers dressed in a light transparent dress is standing in a brightly lit room

“To—” by Frances Anne Butler

When the glad sun looks smiling from the sky,
Upon each shadowy glen and woody height,
And that you tread those well known paths where I
Have stray’d with you,—do not forget me quite.

When the warm hearth throws its bright glow around,
On many a smiling cheek, and glance of light,
And the gay laugh wakes with its joyous sound
The soul of mirth,—do not forget me quite.

You will not miss me; for with you remain
Hearts fond and warm, and spirits young and bright,
’Tis but one word—“farewell;” and all again
Will seem the same,—yet don’t forget me quite.

“You Never Guessed The Secret” by Katharine Forrest Hamill

You never guessed the secret,
Nor have unto to-day.
The truth of it never reached you,
I hid it so well away.
The truth of how I loved you,
Yet spake not, for your sake;
Nor is it easy to put aside
What One so longs to take.

The voice of you, in my musings,
The glance of you, in my dreams;
The feeling, you ever were near me,
Even now, how compelling it seems!
As if but to turn—were to see you;
To know the clasp of your hand;
Yet, I guarded the knowledge carefully,
And you did not understand.

Still the thought of you hurt, and I hungered—
Hungered, day and night,
It will count when the story is ended,
I was able to see aright.
You never guessed the secret,
Nor have unto to-day.
The truth of it never reached you,
I hid it so well away.

“A Sunset Longing” by Kate Slaughter McKinney

What meaneth this unrest within my heart,
And why do I sit here alone and sigh?
The sunset throws its garnished doors apart,
And palace halls are opened in the sky—
I gaze upon the gold strewn in the west,
A miser, of his jewels dispossessed.

I have played in the sunset’s crimson rain,
And felt its saffron torch wave o’er my brow,
That heated to excess my maddened brain,
And threw a halo ’round my heart—but now,
Like some poor bird far from its kindred sky,
I look into the sunset—look and sigh.

I have no friend to lean upon my heart,
Ah! how I miss the pressure of thy hand,
And thy dear voice seems of the past a part;
Thy figure like a shade from shadow-land.
I think I would be happy if you came
And touched my hand, or softly called my name.

If I could look into your face to-night,
And search the deep mines of your pensive eyes,
Sure, I would find there a responsive light,
To dissipate from out my heart the sighs;
And then I know my lips would lose their scorn,
And in my soul a new impulse be born.

If we could wander off far from the crowd
Among the hills—our voices there unheard—
Where once our hearts in unison beat loud,
To the sweet song of some wild mountain bird,
I think the twilight vail would lose its gloom,
That shrouds to-night the windows of my room.

Perhaps ’tis wrong that I should sadden you
With these rain-droppings that my heart-clouds shed;
Gladly would I distill a drop of dew
Down deep into your flower-like heart instead.
Some other night, if separation’s sky
Should clearer grow, dear absent one, I’ll try.

“Fair Star That On The Shoulder Of Yon Hill” by Lewis Morris

Fair star that on the shoulder of yon hill
Peepest, a little eye of tranquil night,
Come forth. Nor sun nor moon there is to kill
Thy ray with broader light.
Shine, star of eve that art so bright and clear;
Shine, little star, and bring my lover here.

My lover! oh, fair word for maid to hear!
My lover who was yesterday my friend!
Oh, strange we did not know before how near
Our stream of life smoothed to its fated end!
Shine, star of eve, as Love’s self bright and clear;
Shine, little star, and bring my lover here.

He comes! I hear the echo of his feet.
He comes! I fear to stay, I cannot go.
O Love, that thou art shame-fast, bitter-sweet;
Mingled with pain, and conversant with woe!
Shine, star of eve, more bright as night draws near;
Shine, little star, and bring my lover here.

“Spring Rain” by Sara Teasdale

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.

I remembered a darkened doorway
Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
And lightning scrawled on the sky.

The passing motor busses swayed,
For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
In the lamp light’s stain.

With the wild spring rain and thunder
My heart was wild and gay;
Your eyes said more to me that night
Than your lips would ever say. . . .

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.