Her grave lies high where wind and sun Can play without frustration; And lads and maids when work is done Stroll by in youth's elation. But we to wind and sun are veiled And droop at times with yearning; Nor catch young voices bravely hailed To life with quick discerning. We grieve that death in her must be, Yet who is blessed, she or we? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CITY VIGNETTE: DAWN by SARA TEASDALE THE SHIPWRECK, SELECTION by WILLIAM FALCONER THE FLAT-HUNTER'S WAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS RHAPSODY by MARTIN DONISTHORPE ARMSTRONG PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 44. ALLAH-AL-RAKIB by EDWIN ARNOLD THE SCOTTISH CHRISTMAS by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |