IT pushed a guided way between The pebbles of her grave; A poplar hastening to be green And silver signals wave. And we who sought her with the moon, Were met by branches stirred, And whiter grew as grew the croon That seemed her hidden word. "O, she would speak!" my heart-beat said; My eyes were on the mound; And lowlier hung my waiting head Above the prisoning ground. Then smiled the lad and whispered me,— The lad who most did love; "She stoops to us; the little tree Is wakened from above!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 4. REVEILLE by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE NIGHTINGALE by PHILIP SIDNEY TO THE EARL OF WARWICK ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON by THOMAS TICKELL THE HEATH-COCK by JOANNA BAILLIE OCTOBER by MARIE DAVIES WARREN BECKNER FOR THE MASTER'S SAKE by MINNIE MASON BEEBE |