She will not die, they say, She will but put her beauty by And hie away. Oh, but her beauty gone, how lonely Then will seem all reverie, How black to me! All things will sad be made And every hope a memory, All gladness dead. Ghosts of the past will know My weakest hour, and whisper to me, And coldly go. And hers in deep of sleep, Clothed in its mortal beauty I shall see, And, waking, weep. Naught will my mind then find In man's false Heaven my peace to be: All blind, and blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 38 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE LONELY HOUSE by EMILY DICKINSON THE LATTER DAY by THOMAS HASTINGS MEZZO CAMMIN by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. BENJAMIN PANTIER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE PRINCESS; A MEDLEY by ALFRED TENNYSON OUR BIRTH-CORD by KOFI ANYIDOHO |