But where he fared and how, it matters not. He and his mourning ere a month had run Were out of mind with all and clean forgot, Kinsman and friend and foe: save only one, Only Natalia. She with tightened breath Heard his name spoken in reproof's vain way And gave her melancholy soul to death. Foolish Natalia, who in love's full day Had spent her grief, had nothing now to give Of greater woe to her soul's agonies. Living she yet had hardly dared to live. She had wept dry the fountains of her eyes, And never on her sorrow broke a gleam Of that assuagement tears on others stream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAY OF THE LABOURER by THOMAS HOOD THE LAST CHANTEY by RUDYARD KIPLING GRAND IS THE SEEN by WALT WHITMAN THE BRITISH PHILIPPIC by MARK AKENSIDE HITOPADESA: DEDICATION by EDWIN ARNOLD WHAT DICK AN' I DID by WILLIAM BARNES AN OLD BURYING GROUND by ELFRIDA DE RENNE BARROW |