O bitter herb, Forgetfulness,
I search for you in vain;
You are the only growing thing
Can take away my pain.
When I was young, this bitter herb
Grew wild on every hill;
I should have plucked a store of it,
And kept it by me still.
I hunt through all the meadows
Where once I wandered free,
But the rare herb, Forgetfulness,
It hides away from me.
O bitter herb, Forgetfulness,
Where is your drowsy breath?
Oh, can it be your seed has blown
Far as the Vales of Death?
The Bitter Herb
Jeanne Robert Foster
(1)
Poem topics: breath, death, pain, wild, young, away, bitter, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Previous Poem
Next Poem
Write your comment about The Bitter Herb poem by Jeanne Robert Foster
Best Poems of Jeanne Robert Foster