HIS young bride stood beside his bed, Her weeping watch to keep; Hush! hush! he stirred not,—was he dead, Or did he only sleep? His brow was calm, no change was there, No sigh had filled his breath; O, did he wear that smile so fair In slumber or in death? "Reach down his harp," she wildly cried, "And if one spark remain, Let him but hear 'Loch Erroch's Side'; He 'll kindle at the strain. "That tune e'er held his soul in thrall; It never breathed in vain; He 'll waken as its echoes fall, Or never wake again." The strings were swept. 'T was sad to hear Sweet music floating there; For every note called forth a tear Of anguish and despair. "See! see!" she cried, "the tune is o'er: No opening eye, no breath; Hang up his harp; he 'll wake no more; He sleeps the sleep of death." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SINGER IN THE PRISON by WALT WHITMAN THE WHITE CHARGER by ABUS SALT WE'LL GO NO MORE THE WOODLAND WAY by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE THE SONG OF THE COSSACK by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER UNEASY PEACE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN EMILE ZOLA by MARJORIE W. BRACHLOW CHERRY-BUDS by GAMALIEL BRADFORD THE EARTHLY HOUSE by PHOEBE CARY HIS CROWN OF SHAME (ON THE SINKING OF THE 'LUSITANIA') by HENRY CHAPPELL |