English poem
Epilogue To A Book Of Unimportant Verses
by Arthur Colton (1868–1943)
An unfair title that forestalls
The judgment of my peers,
An after title that recalls
The hopes of other years,
When words were flowers beside the way,
And the world in rhythm ran,
And grief was dainty, and love was play,
And the breath of death, would scan,
And all the long results of time
Were captives of a happy rhyme.