Versos English Richard Harris Barham To Late

English poem

To Late

by (1788–1845)

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Too late! though flowerets round me blow, And clearing skies shine bright and fair; Their genial warmth avails not now Thou art not here the beam to share. Through many a dark and dreary day, We journeyed on 'midst grief and gloom; And now at length the cheering ray Breaks forth, it only gilds thy tomb. Our days of hope and youth are past, Our short-lived joys for ever flown; And now when Fortune smiles at last, She finds me cheerless, chilled alone! Ah! no; too late the boon is given, Alike the frowns and smiles of Fate; The broken heart by sorrow riv'n, But murmurs now, 'Too late! Too late!'