Margaret are you grieving. Over goldengrove unleaving?. Leaves like the things of man you. With your fresh thoughts care for can you?. Ah! As the heart grows older. It will come to such sights colder. By and by nor spare a sigh. Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie. And yet you will weep and know why. Now no matter child the name. Sorrow's springs are the same. Nor mouth had no nor mind expressed. What heart heard of ghost guessed. It is the blight man was born for. It is margaret you mourn for