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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AT THE GRAVE OF HEINE by OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN

First Line: SOUTH-HEART OF SONG / IN WINTER DREST
Last Line: THROUGH WHOSE HIGH MORN THE BIRD SINGS ON.
Subject(s): DEATH; GRAVES; DEAD, THE; TOMBS; TOMBSTONES;
SOUTH-HEART of song
In winter drest,
Death mends thy wrong;
That is life's best.

Bird, who didst sing
From a bare bough,
Call, and what Spring
Will answer now!

And haste with her
Bud-legacy,—
O, not to share,
To take of thee!

Thy night, slow, dark,
Yet song-lit shone,
Till who did hark
Missed not the moon;

When morning found
Thy cold, pierced breast,
'Twas she who moaned,
To thy thorn pressed.

@3Here lies the thorn-wound of the dawn
Through whose high morn the bird sings on.@1



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