"Our sweetest songs are those That tell of saddest thought." —SHELLEY. WHEN Grief has gone a-maying The thorns may show a tress, Dim waters be betraying The colour of her dress. Grief doth not alway blind us, And men have read her eyes; She sometimes falls behind us, That we may count her sighs. Not so with Joy. None view him, Yet, when he takes his flight, Men rise up and pursue him To dumb and earless night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD. THE AUTHOR THAN FORTY by MATTHEW PRIOR THE DARK HILLS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON REVEL by ABUL HASAN OF SANTA MARIA LARABELLE; CANTO THIRD by LEVI BISHOP |