HER lily skin, her bronze-red hair Glowed brightly from her dying bed, No wonder that Death coveted A thing so radiantly fair. Her many friends must watch and pray And chafe her hands and soothe her head, And care for her till she be dead. She was forsaken night and day, She was forsaken of her breath, And half forsaken, too, by Death, Who only took her soul away: Her poor, dark soul, unwashed, unfed, And left her body lying there, For all it was so white and fair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GARDEN FANCIES: 2. SIBRANDUS SCHAFNABURGENSIS by ROBERT BROWNING OUR SUSSEX DOWNS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES WRITTEN [OR LINES] IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM by THOMAS HOOD THE MILL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE VIOLIN'S ENCHANTRESS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TIRESOME SPRING by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER WHO GOES THERE? by GRACE DUFFIE BOYLAN |