In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face -- the face of one long dead -- Looks at me from the wall, where round its head The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died; and soul more white Never through martyrdom of fire was led To its repose; nor can in books be read The legend of a life more benedight. There is a mountain in the distant West That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines Displays a cross of snow upon its side. Such is the cross I wear upon my breast These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes And seasons, changeless since the day she died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MUSIC; A FRAGMENT by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY SONNET TO NIGHT by JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE TO A FRIEND WHOSE WORK HAS COME TO NOTHING by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A TOMB BY THE SEA by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS THINK-ABOUTS by DAISY MAUD BELLIS THY DREAMS ARE THE DEEDS OF MEN by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE DEEP by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |