The linnet in the rocky dells, āàThe moor-lark in the air, The bee among the heather bells āàThat hide my lady fair: The wild deer browse above her breast; āàThe wild birds raise their brood; And they, her smiles of love caressed, āàHave left her solitude! I ween, that when the grave's dark wall āàDid first her form retain, They thought their hearts could ne'er recall āàThe light of joy again. They thought the tide of grief would flow āàUnchecked through future years; But where is all their anguish now, āàAnd where are all their tears? Well, let them fight for honour's breath, āàOr pleasure's shade pursue- The dweller in the land of death āàIs changed and careless too. And, if their eyes should watch and weep āàTill sorrow's source were dry, She would not, in her tranquil sleep, āàReturn a single sigh! Blow, west-wind, by the lonely mound, āàAnd murmur, summer-streams- There is no need of other sound āàTo soothe my lady's dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO W.P.: 4 by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE LOVER PLEADS WITH HIS FRIENDS FOR OLD FRIENDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS FAREWELL TO MALTA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ADMONITION [TO A TRAVELLER] by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH EPITHALAMIUM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE FOUNTAIN OF PITY by HENRY BATAILLE RUSSIA by ALEXANDER (ALEKSANDR) ALEXANDROVICH BLOK HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 40 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |