But yesterday thine eyes were bright As rays that fringe the early cloud; Now closed to life, to love, and light, Wrapp'd in the winding-sheet and shroud; And darkly o'er thee broods the pall, While faint and low thy dirge is sung; And warm and fast around thee fall Tears of the beautiful and young. No more, sweet one! on thee no more Will break the day-dawn fresh and fair; Nor evening's purple twilight pour Its softness round thy raven hair; No more beneath thy magic hand Will wake the lyre's responsive lay; Or round its warmth the wreath expand To crown a sister's natal day. Yet as the sweet surviving vine Around the bough that buds no more Will still its tender leaves entwine And bloom as freshly as before; So fond affection still will shed The light on thee it used to wear, And plant its roses round thy bed To breathe in fragrant beauty there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 2 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 9. VILLA SEBELLONI, BELLAGGIO by SARA TEASDALE THE PALM TREE by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS OUR COUNTRY by JULIA WARD HOWE I AM THE WAY' by ALICE MEYNELL BARS FIGHT, AUGUST 28, 1746 by LUCY TERRY THE GLASSES AND THE BIBLE by ST. CLAIR ADAMS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 4. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND, IN THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE |