SLOW and weary, moves a dreary Stout black bark the stream along; Visors wearing, all-uncaring, Funeral mutes the benches throng. 'Mongst them dumbly, with his comely Face upturn'd, the dead bard lies; Living seeming, toward the beaming Light of heaven still turn his eyes. From the water, like a daughter Of the stream's voice, comes a sigh, And with wailing unavailing 'Gainst the bark the waves dash high. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WELCOME by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE BLACK FINGER by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE EPITHALAMIUM by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SONGS ON THE VOICES OF BIRDS; SEA-MEWS IN WINTER TIME by JEAN INGELOW ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 3. TO A FRIEND UNSUCCESSFUL IN LOVE by MARK AKENSIDE ACHIEVEMENT'S SILVER CRY by MARGARETE ROSE AKIN |