She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turk Upon a Couch of flowers. Her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill Yesterday, and Today, Her vestments as the silver fleece - Her countenance as spray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE IVY GREEN by CHARLES DICKENS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 31 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN BELISARIUS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ONLY WAITING by FRANCES LAUGHTON MACE I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY by WILLIAM AUGUSTUS MUHLENBERG THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 27. HEART'S COMPASS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |