Sonnet (Though thou return unto the former things)

Frances Anne Kemble (1809–1893)

Though thou return unto the former things,Fields, woods, and gardens, where thy feet have strayedIn other days, and not a bough, branch, bladeOf tree, or meadow, but the same appearsAs when thou lovedst them in former years,They shall not seem the same; the spirit bringsChange from the inward, though the outward beE'en as it was, when thou didst weep to seeIt last, and spak'st that prophecy of pain,"Farewell! I shall not look on ye again?"And so thou never didst—no, though e'en nowThine eyes behold all they so loved of yore,The Thou that did behold them then, no moreLives in this world, it is another Thou.