But with full daylight finding no relief, Though he had spent the newness of his fears And looked with altered eyes upon his grief, For sorrow often drowses in its tears, And men sleep deepest on a wound, he rose And taking horse made in all haste for Rome, Thinking if thus he might assuage his woes By visiting his dead Natalia's tomb And asking of her dear new-buried lips What secret thought had been of love and him When the world left her in its last eclipse. And still in passionate words he made his theme, That she was waiting yet to hear his cry: "O my soul's soul, I did not bid thee die." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST ELEGY: THE LAMENT OF EDWARD BLASTOCK; FOR RICHARD ROWLEY by EDITH SITWELL ELEGY: THE LITTLE GHOST WHO DIED FOR LOVE; FOR ALLANAH HARPER by EDITH SITWELL BURIAL OF MOSES by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER THE SCRIBE by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE |