Change

There is only one thing in this world that is at once desired and despised for its deeply influential powers. From Barak Obama to Osama Bin laden, you and me, every one is the same in front of its invincible power; bewildered, hoping for the best to come out, praying for the moment to hold. That thing, my friend, as you might have already guessed, is change. Here is a beautiful poem that talks about one such instance.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"Change Upon Change"

Five months ago the stream did flow,

The lilies bloomed within the sedge,

And we were lingering to and fro,

Where none will track thee in this snow,

Along the stream, beside the hedge.

Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go!

For if I do not hear thy foot,

The frozen river is as mute,

The flowers have dried down to the root:

And why, since these be changed since May,

Shouldst thou change less than they.

And slow, slow as the winter snow

The tears have drifted to mine eyes;

And my poor cheeks, five months ago

Set blushing at thy praises so,

Put paleness on for a disguise.

Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go!

For if my face is turned too pale,

It was thine oath that first did fail, -

It was thy love proved false and frail, -

And why, since these be changed now,

Should I change less than thou.