Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AT HER GRAVE, by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AT HER GRAVE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I have stay'd too long from your grave
Last Line: Where a weed will never grow.
Alternate Author Name(s): O'shaughnessy, Arthur W. E.
Subject(s): Graves; Mourning; Tombs; Tombstones; Bereavement


I HAVE stay'd too long from your grave, it seems;
Now I come back again.
Love, have you stirr'd down there in your dreams
Through the sunny days or the rain?
Ah, no! the same peace: you are happy so;
And your flowers, how do they grow?

Your rose has a bud: is it meant for me?
Ah, little red gift put up
So silently, like a child's present, you see
Lying beside your cup!
And geranium leaves, -- I will take, if I may,
Two or three to carry away.

I went not far. In you world of ours
Grow ugly weeds. With my heart,
Thinking of you and your garden of flowers,
I went to do my part,
Plucking up, where they poison the human wheat,
The weeds of cant and deceit.

'T is a hideous thing I have seen, and the toil
Begets few thanks, much hate;
And the new crop only will find the soil
Less foul, -- for the old 't is too late.
I come back to the only spot I know
Where a weed will never grow.





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