SHE was here, and she is gone, Yet there is singing; Round this heart of crumbling stone Music still is clinging As birds round cliffs where tempests groan All day are winging. How can music still go on—on— And she gone? She is here no more but can Her song be gone? Stars that waned when dawn began Still burn purely on, Silence sings when every song of man Is done. How shall her song be mute although her span Of life be done? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ADOPTED CHILD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE SURRENDER AT APPOMATTOX [APRIL 9, 1865] by HERMAN MELVILLE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 57. TRUE WOMAN, HER LOVE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI A MORNING THOUGHT by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL |