This maiden is dead, is dead in love's play. They laid her in the ground, in the ground at break of day. They buried her alone, alone in her array. They buried her alone, alone in her coffin. They came back all merrily, merrily with the day. They sang all merrily, merrily "All must pay, This maiden is dead, is dead in love's play." They have gone to the fields, to the fields like every day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HATRED by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT THE GOOD GREAT MAN by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE LIGHT THAT LIES by THOMAS MOORE MUTABILITY (2) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY TRACT by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |